The Courage and Fortitude to Stay True and
by xxxEmma3xxx
Summary: ...Follow Orders in the Face of Danger and Almost Certain Death. NOW COMPLETE! This story follows the postDMC voyage to rescue Jack.
1. Barbossa and Elizabeth settle old scores

To any repeat readers: There's a new intro and various tinkerings as of 6/20/07. Nothing essential to the plot has changed, of course, but I'm still fiddling with Barbossa's dialog a bit.

To any new readers: this is a giantly long story. Sit back and enjoy the ride... and if you like it, drop me a line!!

(This takes place immediately after DMC. It is obviously not AWE-compliant.)

* * *

Elizabeth didn't much care for her new captain at first. According to the stories he was a terrible person, a thief and a cold-blooded murderer and, lowest of the low even by pirate standards, a mutineer. From her own experience, she knew him to be also a kidnapper and liar, the sort who hit girls and laughed at other people's pain. 

So she didn't much like him, and she didn't much trust him either - what was he after? Helping Jack? Fat chance with all the betrayals between them. Repaying Tia Dalma for restoring his life? Not likely - the weasely old thing could probably have cheated her of it without batting an eye.

All that notwithstanding, though, Elizabeth had to admit Barbossa knew his way around a ship and crew. He'd named the boat before they even reached it: "We'll christen her the _And Back_, gents," he declared, "As a reminder that we're not just sailin to the end of the world - we're sailin to the end of the world _and back_ again." He looked around as though for objections, and there were none. Nods all around, and Will even muttered _amen to that _under his breath.

Elizabeth didn't say anything, kept her arms crossed, and pretended not to notice the captain's eyes boring into her for the whole way down the river.

They reached the ship and Elizabeth found it distressingly tiny. After what she had just seen happen to the _Pearl, _legendary fearsome pirate vessel though she was, Elizabeth thought she might not mind never putting to sea again.

But as giving up was not an option, she clamped down on all thoughts of the vast distances they would be covering and climbed aboard. She looked around at the men Tia Dalma had found for them and couldn't stop herself from muttering, "And we're to trust ourselves to _this _crew?"

To her surprise, someone answered her. "Trust 'em?" It was Barbossa, and he sounded amused. "Course not - I've sailed with most of 'em before. They're not to be trusted, miss, but they _are _to be sailed with. I can vouch they'll do their part as well as ye will do yours."

She had already leaned away and curled her lip before she remembered how unwise it would be to make an enemy of him - after all, he had both her life and Will's in his hands at the moment. She fell back on all her years of training and produced a nod from someplace. "Yes sir." Barbossa looked her up and down very slowly and she realized he was not at all fooled by her pretend politeness. Her stomach twisted. "Captain, I..."

He nodded as though he had expected it. "Into the cabin, miss. I spose we ought to talk."

* * *

"Sit," ordered Barbossa. She sat. She was looking as tough and defiant as he'd had ever seen her, so he judged her terrified and turned away to pour a couple of fortifying drinks. He handed her a glass and sat down opposite at the table. 

"Now Miss Elizabeth," he began, then frowned. "It won't bother ye to be called Elizabeth, will it? I wouldn't usually call my crew by their given names, but we've already got a Turner on board and-"

"Elizabeth will be fine, Captain," she interrupted with a proud toss of her head. "Now, what it is you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Miss Elizabeth," he began again, "As one so versed in pirate history you must know I've been captain since long before you were born. I've sailed with crews who like me, crews who're indifferent, and crews who hate me with a burnin passion. I managed it all and lived to tell, so don't think for a second it be fear talkin today." He waited for her to nod. "I expect this voyage to be more difficult than me usual undertakins, and that's why I think it be important for us all to get along. As the lady, it's you everyone'll look to as the moral compass of sorts." He leaned forward and locked eyes with her. "So the question is: I'll need to know where you stand. Now."

"I stand with you, Captain, obviously," Elizabeth assured him at once, then reconsidered under his skeptical stare. "Well, to be honest... I'll trust you so long as I can clearly tell that you're on my side. If your behavior becomes somehow ambiguous… then obviously that could change things. You know I'd be a fool to trust you implicitly."

Barbossa considered her lukewarm response for a moment. "Before you make so bold as to impugn me honor," he said a little snappishly, "Which I've guarded oh so carefully through years much longer and darker than you'll ever know... will ye be so kind as to answer me a question or two?" Elizabeth didn't answer, which he took to mean yes. "As I recall, the last time you were aboard ye came directly from your bedroom. Why is it, then, that you weren't paradin around the entire time in your nightgown?"

"I- you lent me a dress," she whispered.

"Aye. That I did. And did ye think to take it off again when ye were about to…ohhh…to go for a little swim, shall we say?"

"No. I would have drowned if you hadn't taken that dress back," she realized, aghast. "But I thought you were just-"

"Right, next question:" he overrode loudly. "Did any man aboard the ship, m'self included, did anyone so much as _touch_ ye the entire time ye were in my care?"

Elizabeth stared at him. Up til now, not liking to remember her captivity at all, she had never even considered the full extent of the horrors she could have endured aboard the _Pearl_. Captured by pirates – desperate men whose usual behavior consisted of simply taking anything they fancied – and she had emerged with barely a scratch. She had been so preoccupied with her ordeal at the time that it had not even occurred to her how much worse it could have been.

But why was Barbossa reminding her of it at all? She straightened her spine. "I think I understand where this is going," she said haughtily. "You told me once that as I had taken advantage of you, you thought it only fair to take advantage in return. Is that what you're saying?"

Barbossa flashed her his mottled grin, pleasantly surprised by this turn of events and not at all about to let such an opportunity slip away. "It seems you _do _owe me something," he agreed genially. "Care to pay up?"

"Pay up?"

"Aye." He raised a grimy finger to his cheek. "A kiss. You owe me a kiss." It was a challenge.

_That's it?_ Elizabeth's jaw dropped but she closed it quickly - she realized he was playing with her and if that was so, then she would play to win. "Captain Barbossa," she began with a coquettish little smile, "I regret to inform you that as a woman betrothed – again – I cannot always afford to pay my debts." She rose, crossed to his side of the table, and bent down by his chair. "What I mean is," she continued, leaning closer to him as though sharing a secret, "I imagine it could be said that I owe you much _more_ than a kiss….But a kiss is all you're going to get." She meant to brush her lips against his cheek, but her behavior had so surprised him that he turned to face her – and she landed square on his mouth instead.

Elizabeth was caught so off guard that she opened up instead of jerking away. He kissed back, and she discovered that despite his repugnant appearance the pirate tasted no worse than any of the other men she'd kissed (Will, Jack, and a stable lad when she was eleven). Knowing no polite way of breaking free, and loathe to offend him by recoiling violently, she indulged in a few minutes of thrust-and-parry of the tongue before finally easing away with a nervous giggle. "All paid up?" she asked brightly. When she saw his pained expression she made her eyes very wide and innocent. "What's wrong – did I do a bad job?"

Barbossa wiped his mouth and looked away. "Don't try to be toyin with me, miss. You'd best get out of here while I'm still bein a gentleman." When she only laughed at him, his eyes narrowed and he clarified: "You have about ten seconds."

"Don't be silly, I know I'm quite safe in your hands," she breezed, having decided to make him pay dearly for what had just happened. She bit on her lower lip - her father always said it was indecent and made the men stare.

Tension saturated his every word and breath. "Aye, tis a promise I _wish_ I could make ye. But you're an unholy little temptress, miss, and it's been far too long."

"Last time we spoke it had been, what, ten years?" She angled herself so that the candlelight danced down into her top a little further. "And as you restrained yourself then, I'm confident you won't do anything to compromise me now either. I think I'll stay."

He was glad to be sailing with a girl bold enough to play such games and mean enough to enjoy it. In the interests of knowing his enemy, he decided to probe the depths of her wickedness a little more. "I _can _restrain myself, aye... but it's neither easy nor pleasant. I cry your mercy, Elizabeth. You're a torture. Please leave."

She had never forgotten the way his eyes acquired an unnatural glow in candlelight. It was frightening indeed, but if she was to deal with him on a regular basis she would have to get used to it. Besides, he was clearly feeling indulgent today. She found the courage to continue to tease. "You poor thing."

He sat still for a while, hands folded, the picture of innocence, without making any attempt to intimidate her while she smirked at him. "Satisfied?" he asked at last into the silence. Elizabeth hesitated, so he spelled it out for her: "Y'be safer standin with me than against. I'm on your side for true - I wouldn't wish the _Dutchman _on anyone, even Jack, who we both know deserves it."

"I suppose that's what I needed to hear. So yes, I'm satisfied." Elizabeth touched his arm, smiling when the contact sent a shiver through him. "How about you, sir?" she asked innocently. "Are _you _satisfied?"

Barbossa was sure he could get one more kiss out of her but wasn't at all sure he could stop there. "Oh, very. Now, you may not go when asked, miss, but you _will_ go when ordered. Out." The glare and the growl might have been playful, but the raw edge to his voice – which he undoubtedly thought he was concealing – was anything but.

Elizabeth got out, feeling very brave for needling him and very wary of what he was going to do back to her. It was shaping up to be an interesting trip.

* * *

TBC. 


	2. Elizabeth comments on Will's lash marks

* * *

Elizabeth rubbed a rum-soaked cloth gently over Will's shoulders. Three or four days of care had taken away the bright red backdrop and left the cuts thin and neat against his pale skin. _He could do with a suntan, _she thought, but elected not to mention it because she knew it would embarrass him. It had been hard enough to get him to strip off his shirt for her, and he was still clearly uncomfortable. "It's healing nicely," she assured him. She wondered if teasing would put him a little more at ease. "You might scar a little…but don't worry. I like men with scars." 

Will looked away. _Men with scars. _Like Jack. His resolution never to mention the kiss he had witnessed almost gave way, but at the last moment he restrained himself. "Yes, I know," was all he said, hurrying to dress again as soon as she was done.

She heard the strain in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"I…" he searched for something to tell her. "My father gave me these cuts," he said at last.

"Your father?" Elizabeth echoed. "But you told me they were-"

"They were." He interrupted her and told her the whole story, his voice shaking with emotion. He ended with, "And he told me I'm to understand it as an act of compassion! Compassion, indeed." Totally absorbed by what he was saying, Will had forgotten all about his jealousy over Elizabeth and Jack.

Elizabeth frowned in polite puzzlement. "But what else could it be, besides compassion?"

"What else?" Will's turn to frown. "I don't know, but if he thought I would _appreciate_ a beating at my own father's hands, he was sorely mistaken. Can you imagine? As if I-"

"I think you're being a little unfair." Elizabeth withdrew her hand from his. "Do you imagine he did it for fun? No, he did it because it was best for you, even though it must have been terribly hard for him. I've seen sailors after a proper lashing, Will, and I can tell you that thanks to your father's sacrifice you look ten thousand times better than they do." She bit her lip. "He did what had to to help you, and I respect him for it. In his place I'd have done the same. And I certainly hope you would for me as well."

Will was horrified. "For you? You mean whip you?"

"I mean anything!" Elizabeth's voice rose. "Your father would have done _anything_ for you! So would I! Can you say the same? Had you been in Bootstrap's place and I in yours, would you have done what's best for me? Or would you have sent me off to the bosun to be butchered?"

"Elizabeth…" He loved her too much to lie to her. "I'd sooner die than hurt you."

She leaped to her feet. "Will Turner, I am so angry I can hardly speak to you," she seethed. (But that did not seem to be wholly true, since she managed to continue to lecture him.) "I broke with Commodore Norrington and ran off on a pirate ship expressly to _leave this sort of nonsense behind_! I cannot be_lieve_ you have brought it with you!"

"I thought you left Norrington because you loved me," Will whispered, sounding like a small child whose Mama and Papa forgot his birthday.

She was in no mood to coddle him. "Yes and I loved you because I thought you were a fine man, a good man, strong and free and adventurous as I am! Instead, I find that…that… what's next, Will? A wig?"

Will scrambled to his feet, but all he could think to answer was, "I will _never _wear a wig!"

After a beat of silence, Elizabeth raised her chin proudly and stared him straight in the eye. "And you'll never wear a wedding ring, either, until you prove yourself strong enough to deserve it. I will not marry a child."

"Elizabeth…"

"Don't _Elizabeth_ me," she snapped. "I know you don't want to harm someone you care about, but God gave you a heart _and _a brain, and you have to use both. No matter how it hurts." Only then did she know what she was _really _talking about, and the memory of Jack washed over her so hard she thought she could taste him. Realizing that she was about to break down and tell Will everything - and that he would never understand - she stormed off, forbidding herself to cry.

* * *

TBC. 


	3. Oops

Sorry, this isn't actually a chapter. I made a mistake and I'm afraid if I use the "delete chapter" function it will screw up the numbering of later chapters and all that. So just skip ahead to the next chapter, pass GO and collect $200. And don't forget to review. Thanks.

-emma


	4. Barbossa plays marriage counselor

Will flopped down on the deck and stared up at the sky, willing himself to feel better.

"Might I ask what's eatin you?" The captain squatted down beside him, picking at the deck with a knife.

Will sat up partway and leaned on his elbows. "As if you care."

"Care?" Barbossa looked a little surprised. "No of course not, but you be part of my crew now and I need ye at your best. If somethin's wrong…."

Will considered for a moment. There was, of course, no possibility whatsoever that talking to Barbossa could make him feel any better. But with Elizabeth freezing him out – not to mention betraying him with their dear friend _Captain _Jack Sparrow – Will was feeling extremely lonely. He lay back and watched the clouds again. "It's Elizabeth," he finally admitted.

"Ah, lady trouble." Barbossa chuckled. "A lady is rarely anything but. _Your_ lady is uncommonly clever and quite pretty to boot though, so at least you can thank your stars for that."

"I could," Will snapped, "But she's hardly _my _ladyanymore. She said she might not even want to marry me!"

Barbossa had seen Elizabeth pacing the ship with a matching distraught expression on her face, and was sure that whether or not they knew it, these two children were destined for each other. "Did she now," he said noncommittally. He stuck the knife into the deck again.

"Yes, she did. She said she won't have me until I _grow up_." Will sat up and slapped his hand against the deck. "What does she want from me? She's angry because I said I could never hurt her. Because I love her."

"That is _not _why I am angry!" Elizabeth had sneaked up from behind and was suddenly towering over them, hands on her hips.

"Why don't you sit down," Barbossa advised easily, "And we'll sort it out. I can't have the two of you feudin with each other, after all. Come on, missie, have a seat."

Elizabeth crossed her legs and her arms. "He treats me like I'm a _child_, like I'm a _thing _that has to be protected," she began.

"But I love you!" Will insisted desperately. "What else can I do? I have to protect you because I would _die _if harm came to you!"

Barbossa kept his eyes lowered to the nick he was carving. "Sometimes it's necessary to harm a person you love. Sometimes that be the only way."

"Sometimes you _have no choice_," Elizabeth agreed, her voice suddenly choked with tears. "If you're strong, you do what you have to do. Even if…even if you hurt someone you care about. Not every choice is easy…"

Will watched her break down, understanding slowly. "You're talking about Jack," he realized. Elizabeth could only nod. "You're _that _broken up about leaving him." Will sat back. "Elizabeth, I wasn't going to mention what I saw, but-"

"What you saw?" She jerked her head up furiously.

"I saw you kiss him!" Will's face contorted. "I wanted to pretend I didn't. I didn't want to know what's happened between you. I would _never _have asked you."

"Kiss him?" Elizabeth echoed. Her voice dropped. "Will, I _killed_ him."

Barbossa's knife clattered to the floor. "What was that?"

"I said I-" Elizabeth couldn't continue. Will tried to put his arm around her to comfort her, because she really was in obvious distress, but Barbossa shoved him out of the way and shook her.

"Say that again!"

"I said, I-_hic_ – I killed him. I backed him up against the mast and clapped him in irons before he knew what was happening. I left Jack chained to the mast to die," she enunciated carefully.

"You told us all he _elected _to stay behind," Will accused.

Elizabeth shrugged and wiped her eyes. "I didn't want you all to go back for him." This was Will at his most judgmental, and it hurt, so she turned elsewhere for help. "It was the only way, Captain," she said. "I'd have given my life to save him, I would, but I won't die for no reason! If he'd stayed with us, we would have _all _been killed. Jack included."

Barbossa looked over at Will, calmer now that he had overcome the initial shock. "She has a point there, lad," he admitted. "Perhaps she did right."

"I could not have done that, not to a friend. Never." Will shook his head and scrambled to his feet.

Barbossa rose too. "_Never _may be sooner than you think," he warned. "We're sailin to the ends of the world, boy, and there'll be plenty of…oh, a happy word for it might be _challenges_…to season ye. We'll make a man of you yet."

"Wonderful," Will snapped, taking a step back. "So after I've betrayed and murdered a friend, you mean, maybe then I can finally persuade my most honorable fiancée to take me back."

Elizabeth ran off without a word and Barbossa laughed softly. "Maybe and maybe not. She's made some hard choices already, boy," he explained, sounding almost apologetic, "And she'll want to see that you can do the same. Now, go on and do something useful." He shooed Will away and then stared into the distance for a long while, planning.

* * *

TBC. 


	5. Elizabeth as leverage

A/N:

A word of **background on their journey**. The crew numbers about fifteen and they're sailing a ship smaller than the _Pearl. _Newer. They commandeered it, of course. At Barbossa's insistence, they rechristened their ship the _And Back_ to be optimistic because "We're not just going to the end of the world, gents – remember we're going there _and back_."

* * *

The _And Back_ was light and fast. She practically sailed herself, so even though the crew was short, everyone – including the captain – found time to tutor their new shipmate Elizabeth. Hungry for knowledge and willing to do whatever she was told, she soon acquired a vast new set of skills that would have given her father a heart attack.

Gibbs explained the rudiments of navigation to her and showed her how to load both pistol and cannon. She learned to climb the rigging by watching the wordless demonstrations of Cotton (and his parrot). Will, of course, continued to give her swordfighting lessons - a practice that was heartily supported by the crew since it meant that she would spend an hour panting and sweating in her shirtsleeves.

Even the captain often found an excuse to come watch these lessons, although Elizabeth suspected it was more to watch the swordplay than her figure. After that one odd little incident in his cabin he had apparently conquered his interest in her (or perhaps only hidden it – extremely well), and now she suffered from wounded vanity whenever they were alone together. _I might as well be one of the men - except he does at least pull out my chair, _she grumbled to herself every time they sat down to go over charts in his cabin.

It was a little better – but not much – when they sat out in the sun learning how to tie knots. Elizabeth liked it, and Barbossa didn't mind either, since she was a quick enough learner that he rarely had to exercise any patience at all with her.

Sometimes he would be serious, lecturing her on knots that could mean a sailor's life if tied improperly. Other times, though, he would show her firsthand the value of some tie in restraining a captive, laughing at her while she tried to free herself.

(Will always insisted there was something highly improper about this game.)

Barbossa thought she was coming along nicely...nicely enough, in fact, that she was probably ready to help take her first ship. And it was not a moment too soon – before too long they would be beyond the easy prey of the islands, so they had to do some shopping quickly. The _And Back _needed supplies and some more weaponry. Of course the best place to find that at sea was another ship, but Barbossa was reluctant to attack anyone until he knew he had his whole crew behind him. Rival factions on his ship could not be tolerated. To that end, he sat Will Turner down one day...

"Before we really get out into the open ocean, there are a few things we're going to need," he began.

"And I suppose we're going to steal them?" Will demanded aggressively.

Barbossa heaved a sigh. "Do the words _follow orders_ have any meaning to you? Any meaning at all?"

"I follow orders that are just. I won't go around killing people whenever you tell me to."

It was as he had expected – the boy was impossible. Oath or not, orders or not, Will Turner did what he wanted and to hell with the rest of the world, eh? Well, Barbossa would have none of that. Controlling a bloodthirsty pirate crew – a crew with plenty of experience in mutiny, no less – controlling them through ten years of misery and bad decisions most certainly hadn't taught him nothing. If he couldn't bring this boy to heel now, Barbossa would eat his cutlass.

"Whether or not you agree with me, young Master Turner, may I remind you that ye swore an oath to ob-"

"-No oath can bind me to murder!"

"-to _obey orders,_" Barbossa repeated over the interruption. "And if you fail to live up to that oath, I'll punish you in any way I see fit."

Will stared at him levelly. "Do your worst."

Barbossa tsked at him reproachfully. There was a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and Will seemed completely oblivious to it. "Very touching, Mr. Turner," he sneered. "But a word of warning before you tempt me: no matter what you do, I won't lay a hand on you. After all, it's obvious that the best way to hurt you is to hurt Elizabeth in your place. So if you fail me, it'll be she who suffers." His smile was chilling.

"You wouldn't," Will breathed, only half believing it.

So Barbossa bellowed "_ELIZABETH!" _He tipped his hat to her when she came over. "I believe I still owe you an apology for knocking you down on Isla de Muerte when the blood sacrifice failed. I lost my temper with you. Not your fault. I'm sorry."

Elizabeth looked amazed. "After all this time? Captain, that's really water under the bridge at this point, don't you think?"

"Of course. Sit down." She sat, unsuspicious, and as soon as she was in range Barbossa reached out and hit her hard in the face.

"_Ow_!" Elizabeth's hand flew to her jaw. "What the bloody hell was that for?" She looked from Barbossa to Will and back again, and realized immediately that once again she was being used as leverage in the negotiations of other people. "I don't appreciate that," she sulked. "And after you just apologized for last time, too!"

Now he turned to look at her. "Well, I couldn't very well have two of them on my conscience at once, could I?"

"What conscience?" Will snapped, disgusted. He stood up. "If you do anything to Elizabeth..."

"If you do as you're told, I won't have to." He waited until Will had stalked off, then said: "Apologies, miss."

She wasn't able to fume at him when he turned on the grandfatherly charm. "That was smart," she admitted grudgingly.

"Yes well I have to get a leash on him somehow. We'll be taking a ship within the next day or two, and I don't need him trying to spoil it. Do what you can to keep him in hand."

"Aye sir." Elizabeth debated making a wisecrack about how her life apparently might depend on it, but, her cheek still stinging, decided not to. She stared out at the sea thoughtfully. Taking a ship within a day or two! Then she would be an honest-to-God _pirate_, wouldn't she, in every sense of the word.

If only Jack could see her now...

* * *

TBC. More action next chapter, I promise. Blood and guts and all manner of pirately activities, yarr!

Leave some love.


	6. The proper usage of an undead monkey

**To Asteria:** Clever girl! That's for a teeny bit later… but it's coming.

* * *

When he wouldn't let her use the spyglass, Elizabeth just hovered over him asking irritating questions. "What sort of ship is that? Are we going to chase her? She's not a trading-"

"She's full of Navy men. Never mind the colours, that's a trick. It's pirate hunters."

"No!" Elizabeth felt a rush of adrenaline. "They've come out here just to hunt pirates?"

Barbossa looked pleased. "Aye. More often than not it's because there be some man in a wig who needs to look like he's doin his job. He sends out a ship to bring home a few pirate heads and make people proud of him." He interrupted their conversation to acknowledge Gibbs, who was waiting for orders.

"Should we catch them, sir? We could-"

"I want to be just in range of the guns. _Just _in range – I don't want to catch them. Take in sail if you have to. And _don't _ask questions," he added, overriding Gibbs's confused babbling.

Elizabeth, too, attempted to get an explanation, but was dismissed just as quickly. Her instructions were even _more _cryptic. Barbossa handed her his monkey and said: "Load Jack into one of the cannons."

She did it, feeling terribly guilty when the monkey clung to her, chattering for an explanation. "I don't know, little one," she answered him. "Goodbye, and good luck."

When the guns went off she winced, hearing his high-pitched screaming even over the boom of the other cannons.

As soon as his bones snapped back together again, Jack (the monkey) tore back and forth across the enemy deck, trying to do his job. He checked the floor, looked in a few boxes, peeked down in the hold, and scurried partway up the mast, just in case. But still no luck.

Finally, the smell of food lured him to the galley, and _there _he found what he was looking for: two bottles of rum, sitting peacefully on the table.

Jack knew what to do now. He dexterously popped open a hanging lantern and dipped his tail into the oil as he had been trained. He hated this part. It hurt.

On the other hand, he _loved_ the part where he shoved the bottles off the table to shatter them and, with a tiny swish of his tail, set the room ablaze. He squealed delightedly and danced around in the flames, feeling immensely proud of himself, then skittered off to see if he could find any more bottles. There didn't seem to be as many here as there were on a pirate ship, but surely there would be a few in the men's hammocks.

Barbossa clicked shut his spyglass. Smoke was billowing out of the victim's hatch and the captain's cabin, and the crew had started to haul aboard pails of seawater to put out the fires. They were clearly distracted now. It was time.

"All right, Mr. Gibbs - _now _we catch them." Barbossa reached up to his shoulder out of habit, frowning when his hand did not encounter Jack (the monkey), and tried out different methods of fidgeting while Gibbs passed on the orders to speed up. The pirate hunters' ship was fast but not too fast, and small as well. A good thing since the _And Back_'s crew was tiny and they were woefully short on warm bodies to wield guns and cutlasses. Barbossa laughed and made joyous "_Arrrr_"'s to the sky, glad to be back in the game. Now that he wasn't invincible any more he had decided not to do any actual fighting himself, but he carried his sword and four loaded pistols just in case he changed his mind.

Elizabeth was disappointed to be manning the guns because it meant she was stuck below deck while all manner of interesting sights were to be seen up top. Will, being more experienced in piratical matters, got to rush back and forth delivering orders and lending a hand wherever it was needed.

He tried to make her feel better. "You won't be down here long," he assured. "Barbossa says we can't afford to trade volleys with them because we can't risk harming the ship. He's going to have us board as soon as humanly possible. Surprise them, do it all by hand."

"Will _I_ board?"

"You? Elizabeth. No. Of course not."

She stared at him. "Why? Just because I'm a girl?"

"Because it's captain's orders, that's why," Will said firmly. "Now get ready. We're going to come around, let loose with the guns once or twice, and then it's out with the grappling hooks. You'll go up on deck and stand by, with the captain."

"And then?"

"And then you'll do what he tells you to do. Unless he tells you to actually engage," Will amended. "In that case ignore him. Under _no _circumstances are you to start fighting hand-to-hand with these people, do you understand? Elizabeth, we're a long way from medicine out here-"

"Well, we'll just see what the captain says, now, won't we," Elizabeth answered primly, certain that she would be allowed a role in the upcoming battle.

"Elizabeth..." Will took her hands. "I'm not saying that just because I'm worried about you. You don't understand – this is not a game. People will die. Good people, innocent people…"

"We _will _ask for their surrender first?" she checked.

"It never happens that way. We'll ask but…" Will thought for a moment but there was no gentle way to say it. "We're probably going to slaughter every man aboard. Don't watch." He went back upon deck, leaving Elizabeth alone with the other gunners.

* * *

TBC.

Ok, so I lied about the blood and guts – that comes next time. The next chapter is all set to go.


	7. Elizabeth learns about getting shot

A/N: This is the second update in the last few days. So if you haven't checked the story in awhile, check that you didn't miss a chapter.

And review for me, yeh bloody scallywags! I know you're there, I see you on the hit counter! Yes, I'm talking to you. Yes, you. (No, not you, not you…._**you**._ To borrow a line from _Hook_).

* * *

In the beginning, it went just as Barbossa was hoping. Exhausted from putting out fires, harassed by a demon monkey arsonist, the enemy was rattled easily by the mob of loud, dirty pirates. The crew of the _And Back _boarded, armed to the teeth, and stained the piratehunter's decks red with blood. (Barbossa was pleased to see that most of it was not their own. Perhaps the coaching from Will Turner was worth something after all?)

But then things started to go wrong. One minute Elizabeth was looking at him for orders. The next minute she was airborne, hurtling towards him to tackle him to the deck screaming _"MOVE!"_

As they were falling he realized she must have seen someone taking a shot at them. They landed tangled together in a heap, and he held his breath and waited, listening to his body. After a few seconds when no roar of pain began, he decided it had been a miss.

Perhaps not. Elizabeth was lying completely still, her eyes squeezed shut. "Have ye been hit?" he demanded.

"I-I don't know. It feels like someone punched me in the shoulder."

Barbossa looked her over and swore under his breath. There was already a big dark stain spreading out over one arm and the side of her shirt. "Don't move." He unbuttoned her shirt and jerked it down past her elbows, trying to make sense of the damage through all the spouting blood.

He relaxed almost immediately: the bullet had only made a jagged tear across her arm that with any luck had even missed her bicep. "It's naught but a flesh wound," he assured her. "Truly nothing. But don't look at it."

Of course Elizabeth had to look then, and when she saw all the blood she started to scream. Barbossa clapped a hand over her mouth, then changed his mind and used it to cover her eyes instead. Elizabeth changed from screaming to whimpering. "Oh, shut up – so long as you don't bleed out, you're going to be fine. Sit here, crawl away if you prefer, but keep the wound covered, understand?"

Unwilling to let the battle go on without his supervision, Barbossa stood up as soon as it seemed she was no longer hysterical. Elizabeth stared up at him with tears in her eyes. "But it hurts."

"Yes well that's what happens when you get shot," he answered ruthlessly.

She heard a touch of amusement in his voice. "Bastard," she muttered at his back as he turned his attention towards the battle on the other ship. "Bloody ungrateful _pirate_."

* * *

But now, the way the battle was going did not please Barbossa at all. People seemed to be sitting around, surrendering...and not being executed! It seemed he had missed quite a bit while he dealt with the injury to his best-looking crew member. He frowned, trying to make sense of what had happened….

What had happened was this: As soon as the battle seemed to be going well for them, Will turned to face his captain. "Offer them quarter!" Will shouted across the water. "Barbossa, you have to offer them quarter!" But the captain was paying attention to something on the ground – Elizabeth, in fact – and Will doubted he would have been able to hear over the noise anyway. So Will took matters into his own hands: he climbed up where he could be seen and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Any man who wants to surrender," he called, "Lay down your weapons and sit. You will not be harmed." He saw some people hesitate and look up at him, so he repeated, "On my word: _you will not be harmed_!"

Amazingly enough, although they still outnumbered the pirates, by ones and twos they began to lay down their guns and swords.

* * *

Superlatively irritated, Barbossa ordered a plank put across. He left the _And Back _in the somewhat capable hands of his injured aide Elizabeth and the eternally-drunk Gibbs, and walked over to sort things out.

Will Turner was upon him the moment he set foot on the enemy deck. "These people have all asked for quarter and I've promised it them," the boy said firmly. "You can't kill them now."

Barbossa spared him one scornful glance before shoving past and addressing himself directly to the prisoners. "Who's in charge here?"

Someone pointed to a man in Navy uniform lying unconscious on the deck. Barbossa kicked him awake and waited while he sat up, bewildered, and looked around.

Will gasped. "You!"

The Navy man turned to the source of the voice and squinted at it. "Will Turner?"

A girlish squeal from behind him told Barbossa that his aide had seen fit to abandon her post and follow him over here. "Commodore Norrington?"

The Navy man rose slowly to his feet. "Well, well. Elizabeth. What a lovely reunion." His voice was bitter. "Now might I assume I'm to have the pleasure of Captain Sparrow's company too? I assume he still _is_ in charge of this rabble?"

Elizabeth stepped up and slapped him with her good arm. "Jack's dead, you honorless traitor," she informed him coldly. "After you _stole _all his leverage, Jack and the _Pearl_ were taken by Davy Jones's beast. It would have killed us all, but Jack gave his life to let the rest of us escape."

Norrington stared at her, mouth open. With his wig all askew from the battle and a single trickle of blood winding down his nose from under his hat, he looked so confused it might have been comical under other circumstances. "No. No, it can't be." His mouth twisted. "Jack Sparrow is _mine_, he was _MIIIIIINE_!"

Elizabeth managed not to hit him again. "Jack was _not _yours," she hissed, casting about for the cruelest things she could think of. "And Jack had things you're never going to have! Jack died a hero's death. He's going to be remembered as a good man. He _earned_ our love and respect, all of us, and do you remember that way I was looking when I thought about him?" she dropped her voice and stepped closer. "Well he earned some of that, too." She watched Norrington's face, needing to see him suffer as much as possible, and raised her chin proudly. "He tasted fabulous."

Norrington lunged for her, but the impending catfight was averted when someone stepped between them and shoved Norrington backwards. "And what be the problem over here, miss Elizabeth?" drawled Barbossa.

Elizabeth was so furious at Norrington that she decided to tell on him. "He was the one who stole Jack's bargaining chip and-"

"Jack's bargaining chip?" interrupted Will angrily. "That heart was my father's ticket to freedom and vengeance!"

Barbossa didn't waste words – as soon as he understood what this man had done, he drew a pistol and cocked it.

But Elizabeth threw herself between them, shielding Norrington with her body and smearing blood all over him in the process. "No! Captain please, you mustn't kill him."

Even as angry as he was, Barbossa was not quite willing to shoot Elizabeth over this bit of disobedience, so he decocked his pistol and pointed it upwards. "Care to tell me why?"

"Because I...because he..."

Norrington put an end to her fumbling with a harsh laugh. "Upon my word, I believe the lady still has feelings for me!" He looked over her shoulder to make eye contact with the pirate captain. "Didn't she tell you? I'm the _first _of her jilted fiancés."

"The first?" Barbossa frowned, wondering why this man thought that Will had also been jilted.

Norrington misinterpreted. "Yes, the _first. _Haven't you heard the full list of her conquests? It's quite a long tale."

Elizabeth stiffened at that unnecessary jab, and Barbossa cocked his pistol again, deciding that one excuse to kill the man was as good as another. "One more word against her and you'll never speak again."

"She's got her hooks into _you_, too?" Norrington asked, amazed. "Me, Turner, and Sparrow weren't enough for her?"

Barbossa was much too experienced to lose his poker face so easily, but Elizabeth reacted. "I interceded for you as a thank-you for the one day's head start you gave Jack that let him escape the Navy forever," she said coldly, then stepped away and crossed her arms. "If you get yourself killed now, it's not my concern."

Norrington believed her and rushed to get words out. "You'd be a fool to waste me; I have information you need," he babbled.

"I'm listening." Barbossa did not lower his gun.

"The heart – Davy Jones's heart. Of infinite value to pirates like yourselves. I can tell you what Beckett's done with it. It's information I'd be willing to part for in exchange for the lives of my crew – you don't sink the ship, you don't touch us, you let us pass unharmed. And then I'll tell you everything you need to know."

"What about your precious plan to get your life back?" scathed Elizabeth.

Norrington looked away. "It didn't work," he admitted. "Life under the tyranny of the East India Trading Company is not exactly what I had in mind. If you try to take the heart from Beckett, you'll meet no opposition from me."

Barbossa nodded and put his pistol away. "It's agreed, turncoat. Now let's you and I sit down and have a few friendly little words about that heart. Aye?"

Elizabeth tugged at his arm and whispered to him, "Captain, don't get distracted. Why do we even _need _the heart? We're concerned with only one thing this voyage, remember?"

He shook her off. "Mr. Turner," he called, "Come and escort your crewmate back to her ship."

She was being _dismissed_, carried out, sent away like an insurance salesman? How _dare _he - after she just got herself _shot _protecting him? The nerve!

But before she could find words to express her outrage, Will was upon her. He put an arm around her waist gently, kissed the side of her neck, and whispered, "We have to take care of your wound anyway. Come with me."

Knowing he was right, she went with him. Sulking.

* * *

TBC…..

Show some love, yarr.


	8. Norrington learns about playing hardball

In pain and dizzy from loss of blood, Elizabeth allowed herself to be half-carried back across to her ship. She didn't resist when she was laid down or when Will kissed her on the forehead. The most protest she was able to mount to all this ridiculous babying was a mumbled "If you say _one word _about me parading around in my chemise, Will Turner, I'll have your guts for garters."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask about that," Will said absently as he peeled off what was left of her shirt (it wasn't much.) "What happened to your top?"

"I had to use bits of it as a – _ooh, _careful – bandage."

Will took a look at the blood-soaked wrapping. "Bits," he echoed, bemused. There was at least half a shirt there, tied haphazardly over a wound whose seriousness he could not even begin to guess at.

By the time he had noticed she was hurt, she had been scrambling across a plank over open water, unafraid and in control of herself. She was obviously not in immediate danger, so Will had forced himself to ignore his impulse to go fuss over her. It had not been easy.

And he knew that the quickest way to lose any gratitude she might be feeling would be to lose his head now. So he unwrapped her third-rate bandage calmly, murmuring only perfunctory apologies when his movements hurt her, and took a cool look at the wound.

"It doesn't look bad," he said at last. "That is, it wouldn't look bad on anyone _else_. But Elizabeth...it might scar."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." She smiled as best she could. "Do you like women with scars?"

"I love them," Will said fiercely. He slipped under her arm to catch her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his face in her hair, completely forgetting his resolve not to do just such a thing. "Elizabeth, my God, you could have been killed! What happened?"

"Ow. All right, all right, I'll tell you everything, but please, clean it out while I talk. Lord only knows what's going on over there, we shouldn't leave them alone – Norrington's probably got himself killed by now."

Will resisted his impulse to respond _good riddance_. Instead, he rinsed out the wound and began wrapping it in a relatively clean cloth while she told him the story.

When she was through, he found himself fighting a feeling of anger. "You'd trade your life for a pirate's? Elizabeth, captain or not, Barbossa is not worth your getting hurt for. He would not have done the same for you."

"I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "You're right. And it's not a mistake I'll make twice – the ungrateful thing didn't even say thank you! After all the time I've spent with him, every day, hanging on his every word, letting him _tease _me, not to mention slaving away for him like all the rest of the crew, and when a crisis happens and I perform spectacularly for him, what does he do? Nothing! That's perhaps all I needed to learn about being a pirate. Maybe it's not for me after all."

Knowing that she had learned her lesson went quite a ways towards appeasing Will's anger, but now he found another unpleasant feeling surfacing. He tried to be nonchalant. "So what _did _Barbossa say?"

Elizabeth, hearing the strain in his voice, craned her neck to give him a puzzled look. "Why would you ask that?"

"Oh, no reason." Will kept his eyes on what he was doing. "It's just..." he continued doggedly, "that if you're going to go running to him all the time for...for I don't know what, guidance I guess...even though he's the most insensitive person we know...then maybe I just wanted to know...well, what he's doing _right_, that's all."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're jealous of an old pirate with no teeth?" Elizabeth thought it adorable.

"He has teeth," Will corrected. "It's just that you don't usually see them, because they're mostly black."

Elizabeth giggled. "Yes, that's one aspect of the pirate life that I hope I will never catch on to. I mean, have they never _heard _of hygiene? Why are they all so disgusting? Even Jack. I'll never allow myself to look like a pirate. Never."

Will wrung out a dirty cloth, dipped it into a bucket of seawater after first picking out a piece of seaweed, and offered it to Elizabeth to sop up blood with. "Never," he echoed skeptically. "Well, good luck."

He got Elizabeth to drink some rum (it took less convincing than he would have liked). He got her to lay down, and petted her hair until she fell asleep. Then, certain that the captain was profiting by his absence to commit all sorts of atrocities on their prisoners, Will hurried back up on deck.

Ominously enough, the captain was nowhere to be found. People said he and Norrington were _still _in parlay, so Will sat down to wait for them.

When the negotiators finally resurfaced, Will popped to his feet. "Back to the ship now, Captain?"

"Almost." Barbossa raised his voice and addressed his crew. "Scour the ship stem to stern. Take everything we can eat – and everything you're not sure about. Anything needed to load or fire a cannon. I want everything you can use to shoot, stab, smash, chop, hang, or otherwise kill an enemy with. On the double, gents, we've got a long way to go."

Will was speechless. As the pirates started to raid the ship, he cornered Barbossa and demanded, "All the food? But what will they eat? I thought you'd agreed to let them go unharmed."

Barbossa gestured to the unhappy-looking prisoners. "They look to me like they still be unharmed. I didn't cut off their ears, did I?"

Norrington approached with as much dignity as he could muster. "Captain Barbossa, this is _not _what I had in mind," he said through clenched teeth. "By _unharmed_, I meant _in a state which would allow us to return safely to port_."

"Then maybe ye should have said so." Barbossa snapped his fingers and smiled when Jack the monkey dropped out of the rigging to land on his shoulder. "Now, will there be anythin else?"

"_Yes_, there will." Norrington stopped Barbossa's departure by planting a hand firmly on his chest. He heard the clicks of pistols cocking all around him and ignored them. "I am _not _satisfied that the terms of our arrangement have been carried out. You _will _rectify that at once."

"Will I?" Barbossa sized him up. "Make me an offer, boy."

"An offer?" Norrington echoed incredulously. "I already gave you all the information I had, as per our _other _bargain – the one I kept my half of."

"Then I suppose we're done talking here – unless you've got something _else _to offer?" When Norrington didn't have any ideas, Barbossa prompted, "There be an awful lot of people here to sail this tiny little ship, don't you think?"

Norrington gaped at him. "My crew? You're not seriously proposing to take my crew, are you?"

"_I'm _not proposin nuthin," Barbossa said primly. "It's _you _who's got nothing to feed his crew come suppertime. Ever been mutinied upon, boy? It ain't a pretty sight. Perhaps they'll serve themselves captain soup when they get hungry enough, what think you?"

Norrington didn't lose his composure. "Unlike youvile creaturesmy men do not eat human flesh and will not murder their captain in cold blood whatever his mistakes." He paused to think.

He thought for a long time. "I once lost an entire crew to a hurricane because of how much I hate pirates," he said at last. "Never again. I won't let these people face starvation. If there are volunteers among my men, so be it."

To Norrington's deepest embarrassment and disgust, five men offered willingly – even eagerly – to join the pirate crew. Barbossa took four and rejected the fifth, who was "A little too mad – even for _my _taste." He left Norrington enough of the bare essentials to get his ship back to port.

The _And Back _sailed on.

* * *

TBC...

Yo ho! Everybody secretly wants to be a pirate, yarr!

A brief word about my Barbossa: I know he's usually written a lot more bloodthirsty than the way I'm doing it. People frequently reprise his "People are easy to search when they're dead" line. But I notice that given a choice, he prefers to negotiate rather than fight. Always. Even after that "when they're dead" line, he takes everybody aboard and _then _blows up their ship. Most telling, I think, is that during the cave scene, he points his gun not at Jack, who's threatening him, nor at Will, who has the power to break the curse. He aims at Elizabeth. Why? The only possible outcome of that choice is a stalemate, which gives rise to – surprise, surprise – negotiations. I don't know why Barbossa has such a hardon for bargaining, but he does. If he was really so eager to shoot people, he would have shot Elizabeth anyway. He had plenty of time; he wasn't even mortal until he and Will exchanged that bit about whether or not Jack had wasted his shot.

Ok, end of rant. For now.


	9. Even Gibbs is chilled

**A/N:** I predict that **Jack **will make his entrance about three or four chapters from now. However, when I make predictions about my stories I am usually grossly wrong, so take it with a grain of salt.

* * *

Barbossa stood at the helm, squinting into the darkness. He knew he could have had Gibbs or really anyone take the wheel to allow him a little sleep, but he liked the way the breeze felt tonight and he thought sleep was overrated anyway. It reminded him of being dead. 

The ship itself seemed pretty dead tonight, though. In fact, in the quiet moments he could sometimes hear snores floating down from the crow's nest - a truly disturbing idea.

Barbossa was startled by the sound of a cabin door banging open. It was Elizabeth. She lurched up on deck, a bottle of rum in hand, clearly tipsy. He touched his hat to her. "How feel ye, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Hurt and tired."

"And drunk."

"I am not drunk," she slurred. She staggered over and plopped down on a crate next to him. "Just hurt and tired. And I'll have you know that's the last bullet I'm ever taking for you – you didn't even say thankyou." He didn't answer, and after a moment she recommenced her complaining. "It hurts, it feels dull, not like a cut at all. It feels like a headache, but on my arm. Like an armache. A bad one. And itchy. I want to rub it but then blood goes everywhere. And this rum doesn't help, it's like water. Not at all like the stuff Jack and I were drinking..."

That earned an amused look. "So you've drunk with Jack Sparrow, have you? Then it's no wonder the crew's rum don't satisfy you - I always have it watered down. No need for the men to be any wilder than God already made them." He reached into his coat and handed her his own flask. "This should suit ye better."

Elizabeth uncapped it and took a swig. "Yes." She made a face. "That's it, all right."

But after another few gulps Barbossa took the flask away again. "I think that's enough, missie." He also shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. "You don't need to catch cold."

"But I'm not cold."

"And you don't need Will Turner to make eyes at ye for failin to dress like a lady, either."

"Will Turner," Elizabeth echoed sullenly. "If he's so concerned, he shouldn't have fallen asleep on me now, should he."

"Ehh?" Barbossa only caught about half of it. She really was pretty drunk.

"I can't sleep in a hammock because every time I so much as move, it -_hic- _rubs and I wake up. Or if I finally _do _manage to fall asleep, I itch it in my sleep and the bandage comes off. I've probably lost another gallon of blood in the last hour trying to get a moment's rest, and I am so tired I could jussabout drop and sleep here on the deck." She sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a proper bed! Why don't they build ships for civilized people, that'sh my question, why must we all live like savages, you know?"

She tried to shift her position a little, but lost her balance and fell to the floor. Barbossa heaved a huge sigh and called for someone else to take the wheel. He steadied Elizabeth with one hand, then two, and helped her slowly down the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"My bed."

"Your bed?" Elizabeth jerked out of his grasp and turned to face him. "Why, Captain Barbossa, I'm _sure_ that's not entirely proper," she giggled.

He didn't argue with her. "But the _bed_'s proper – and isn't that what you were just whinin about? Come on, before you fall on your face."

He towed her into his cabin, shut the door behind them, and led her to the bed. Too drunk to mind that she was barely decent, she handed him back his jacket and lay down.

Barbossa sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her, enjoying both the endearing qualities of a sleepy Elizabeth and also her more... ah..._invigorating _aspects.

After a moment she opened her eyes. "Why d'you waste so much time cleaning up after me?" she mumbled. "I really am sorry for the trouble. I'm not sure I'm such a good investment after all."

He chuckled. "Don't be foolish – you're a fine investment. Aside from the obvious benefits like spendin the night in my bed, you're a rare find for other reasons. For instance, it's not easy to find someone brave _and _clearheaded."

"Me? Brave and clearheaded?"

"Aye. Not many would dare board the haunted _Black Pearl _and strike a deal with her dreaded captain," he reminded her. "And fewer still would impress that captain as someone worth makin a deal with."

"Oh." Elizabeth picked at her bandage. "Forgive me but I don't feel very useful right now, very brave _or _very clearheaded."

"Well, that be the rum." He frowned at her and slapped her hand away. "You can't keep touchin it or it'll never start to heal."

"I can't help it," Elizabeth whined. "When I fall asleep I ruin it anyway. You'll just have to stay here and hold my hand the whole night."

"Hah!" Barbossa swallowed his more inappropriate comments.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" she demanded sloppily. "I would -_hic_- kill for a good night's sleep, but not if it means I'll make myself bleed to death."

The captain stood and hunted on the floor for something. "We'll fix that." He found a scarf and used it to tie Elizabeth's good hand to the bedpost.

She burped, then looked shocked with herself. "Errmm, Will's not going to like this."

"Then Will ought not to have fallen asleep at his post. Pull on that." Satisfied that the knot would hold through any sleepy struggling she might do, Barbossa rose and made for the door. "If you need anything, be sure to call. Someone else."

She rolled her eyes, but that made the world spin even harder. Elizabeth dropped into a drunken slumber pretty quickly.

* * *

Will awoke in the middle of the morning. He was deeply chagrined to find Elizabeth's hammock empty – a fine job he had done watching over her! He hurried out of his cabin and looked around. 

The ship was all as usual for a late lazy morning, except that the captain stood brooding at the helm looking even more weathered than usual, almost as if he hadn't gone to bed the whole night. And Elizabeth was nowhere to be found.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if perhaps something had happened to her, Will heard the familiar sounds of his sweet fiancée losing her temper and metamorphosing into a harpy.

"Hello? Hell-_o_? Can you hear me, can _anyone _hear me? Hello? Someone let me out, help me! Captain Barbossa? Let me up!"

Will traced the sounds easily to the captain's cabin, and burst through the door. He saw Elizabeth lying on the bed, only three-quarters dressed, blinking against the sunlight. "Captain? Is that you? I have to use the _privy_, you inconsiderate beast, let me up!" Finally her eyes adjusted. "Will? Oh, dear. Will, it's not my fault, it's not what… I didn't mean for you to see-"

"Right," Will said grimly. Elizabeth was tied - _tied _- to the bed. There on the floor was Barbossa's coat. There was really nothing further he needed to ask, was there?

Will marched straight out of the cabin, drew his sword on his way up the stairs, and without a word attempted to kill the captain.

But Barbossa was no fool. He sidestepped the first ill-timed blow and then drew. On Will's second mindless thrust he disarmed the boy easily, clobbered him with the guard of his sword, and shoved him to the ground. He rested the point against Will's midsection and pressed down. "Mind tellin me the meaning of that friendly little greeting?"

"You know very well the meaning," Will snarled at him, trying unsuccessfully to take a deep breath against the pressure of the sword in his diaphragm. "How could you?"

At first Barbossa was prepared to handle the situation with a lecture, but when Will attempted to get up he opted for a more hands-on approach to control. He dropped to one knee and drew his short dagger, acutely aware that most of the men had stopped what they were doing to watch.

"I can't have ye makin attempts on my life whenever the mood takes ye," he informed the boy softly. "It would be a waste to kill ye now...but I would have not a moment's hesitation about carvin out one of your eyes."

Will's throat jumped. He felt the dagger skimming over his forehead and still was only half-convinced. But then Barbossa took him by the hair, tilted his head back, and pressed the tip of his blade to the soft spot just above Will's cheekbone.

When Will actually felt his eyeball shift in his head, he believed. "No," he gasped out. "No not that. Please."

Barbossa didn't press any harder, but he didn't withdraw either. "Oh, that's right," he said brightly, "I seem to remember sayin it'd be _Elizabeth_ I would punish if you-"

"No!" Will surged up and despite the captain's best efforts to move the dagger in time, he ended up with a big scratch down the side of his head.

"If you're so eager to get hurt I can help you," Barbossa snarled. He scooped up one of Will's hands, jerked the sleeve back, and scored a few good long cuts down the outside of Will's forearm before Will managed to jerk free. "How's that?" he demanded, his mood obviously improved by the sight of blood.

The wind had died down and all of a sudden Will could hear Elizabeth shouting to be let loose. Shouting. All of a sudden he had an epiphany.

If the captain had really done anything to Elizabeth, she wouldn't very likely have been calling to _him_ for help, now, would she? Will realized he'd had it all wrong.

Oh, he was in for it.

The adrenaline rush that had fueled him disappeared immediately, and immediately all his cuts started to sting. The pain helped clear his head. Will made eye contact, took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Please don't hurt Elizabeth. I'm sorry. What I thought was...was bizarre, it can't be true, I see now. I made a mistake, I'm sorry." He stood as soon as he was allowed, putting a hand to his head where the sword guard had caught him. "You've no idea what I thought-" he said sheepishly.

"I know _exactly _what you thought, and I tell ye it is completely unthinkable," Barbossa snapped. "Yes, you _did _make a mistake, a costly one, and it'll be Elizabeth who pays. Now get out of here," he added loudly, overriding Will's interruption, "before you make it any worse."

The captain looked furious and deranged and so, mentally swearing to somehow sort this all out, Will got out of there.

* * *

Gibbs wasn't too pleased with this morning's fiasco. Even as a small child Miss Elizabeth had been a bright and lively thing, and he didn't like the idea of anyone doing anything to dampen her spirit... especially since she hadn't done anything to deserve it. 

He steeled himself to speak up. "So...what's your plan of action, cap'n?"

"We'll handle it tonight when things are quieter - no sense disturbin the ship while we're trying to make good time."

"Aye but I meant...well sir I was only just wondering...what I meant is _what..._I mean I think we all, the whole crew, are, you know, concerned for Miss Elizabeth's...safety. We just want to know-"

"-You needn't concern yourselves for Miss Elizabeth's safety," Barbossa answered loftily. "I'd be a fool to waste her and I know it." His eyes narrowed and he looked much fiercer all of a sudden. "But if you think the boy's idiocy won't have consequences, you're dead wrong. Aye, it's a shame she has to suffer for him, but those be the rules and all aboard know it."

Gibbs would have continued to press, but the captain changed the subject. "Can you find us a storm?"

"A...a storm, sir?"

"Aye, a big one. One that'll blow us fast and hard towards where we're goin."

Gibbs scratched his head. "Aye, I could try, cap'n, but you know how dangerous it be to take on a big storm in a little vessel like this... and with such a crew, to boot. We do our best, you know, but..." he shrugged.

"So much the better," Barbossa said. "There'll be worse than storms where we're goin and the crew needs to be seasoned. I'm thinking in particular of a Mr. William Turner."

Gibbs thought he understood. "That's brilliant, sir! If we run into trouble the crew'll _have _to come together. Nothing like danger to unite us but good. That'll put an end to Will's feistiness, mark my words." But then he frowned. "Although I'm afeared it might be a risk - most _likely_ Turner'll learn his place and everything will be fine. But there's always that little chance he'll keep on disobeying you, cap'n, and in a bad storm that can be trouble..."

Barbossa sighed impatiently. "And that's the whole point! If the boy fails to perform under pressure, or if he questions my least order from now til then, overboard he goes and the storm can have him. It'll go down in the log as an accident. And ye will make sure that's what the crew believes."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "Aye, the men would resent it if you…ah..._dealt with him_ outright, sir. Not to mention what Elizabeth would think."

A shadow crossed the captain's face at the mention of Elizabeth, but he nodded resolutely and confirmed the plan. "If Turner can't do as he's told, he endangers the whole crew. So we'll keep to the code."

Finding Barbossa much too frightening for his taste, Gibbs nodded and started to move away, but the captain grabbed him by the arm and added one bit more: "I am givin you a direct order to tell no one about this plan," he enunciated carefully. "And if you disobey, I'll handle _ye _according to the code as well."

Gibbs' throat went so dry that he had to unscrew his flask and take a long swig before he could even manage "Aye, sir."

* * *

TBC. 

**Further Rants:**

Despite my affection for grody pirates and my inexplicable attachment to Barbossa, I admit that he's a cold one. I'm not sure quite _how _cold…but cold. And dramatic. There is always some strange rockstar / primadonna quality to the way he leads his crew. Man I can't wait til the 3rd movie!

And I know I'm not 100 fair to Will. Aside from his immaturity he's actually quite cool. I watched DMC again last night and I admit Will is a good leader, totally fearless, and strong under pressure… but the immaturity still pisses me off.

Review, will you? Bloody lurkers! Thanks very much to those of you who do have words of encouragement. Although I'm surprised to see so many people having sympathy for DMC's Norrington. I thought he was kind of a jerk.


	10. Elizabeth takes one for the team

Barbossa was not looking forward to making an enemy of Miss Elizabeth, but being on the wrong end of a mutiny was not a part of his travel plans. He had a reputation to uphold. Allowing the crew to doubt the bloodthirstiness of their captain was a recipe for disaster, so clemency was out of the question.

By dusk, most of the crew was loitering around on deck to see what would happen. Barbossa called Elizabeth to him, and she shrugged out of her fiancé's protective grasp and came forward. She did not look pleased.

"Why do you always do this to me?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "Why am I always to be sacrificed for something that's not my fault?"

It took an effort, but he managed a perfect sneer. "Oh, stow the complainin, it's only a couple of lashes. I'll take care of it myself." He gestured carelessly. "Somebody hold her."

There was a slight commotion as Will tried to break free of the men who stood restraining him.

"And _you_ calm yourself too, Mr. Turner," the captain advised with a smile that was decidedly not friendly. "Before I make it really difficult on ye, and offer ye the chance to do it yourself."

The boy looked horrorstruck, but Elizabeth just narrowed her pretty eyes at him. "I'm not afraid of you," she declared, "No matter what you do."

He stepped up and whispered in her ear, "I told you you were brave."

The rumble of distant thunder just added to the ominous atmosphere. Barbossa smiled at the sound, loving the feeling of plans on the verge of success. _And there be our storm_.

He addressed the spectators. "Your crewmate behaved like a child and so he's earned a child's punishment. We don't even need the cat for this – a strap will do us fine."

Several of the pirates laughed. "My mum used to chase me with the strap every day," one snickered.

"Mine used a broom-."

"-a shoe..."

While they were talking among themselves Barbossa unbuckled his heavy leather swordbelt. He gave Elizabeth a dark smile. "Wouldn't want to do damage to those pretty shoulders," he purred.

She was looking at him in a way distinctly reminiscent of the first time she saw him transform into a skeleton. "You don't mean you're really going to…?" But she saw he did mean it. She tried several times for words and finally produced: "This is barbaric."

He seemed amused. "All right, gents, someone hold her. But mind that arm, she's shot."

Barbaric, eh? Well, if that was how she felt before it even started, then there was not much point going easy on her, was there? Besides, Barbossa's main concern was that Turner got the message so this scene would not have to be repeated.

So he put his whole shoulder into it and landed the belt across her back with a perfect _swishCRACK_. As he'd expected, Elizabeth stubbornly tried to keep silent through the first few blows, but – being a girl and brand new to the world of physical pain – she was no match for him. She soon realized it and just gave him what he wanted to hear.

Barbossa took note of who looked ill and horrified: they were weaklings who could not be trusted. On the other hand, there were also a few men who showed a sick kind of satisfaction, practically drooling every time Elizabeth cried out, and he took note of them too. He didn't have to like them, but they might have their uses sometime.

When he had established that screaming would not move him and was sure that Turner had had enough, Barbossa stopped and caught his breath. "I suppose that's enough. But the next time I'll mark her so that it lasts forever, boy."

Elizabeth shoved her way past him with a good elbow, furious but practically unharmed, and muttered, "You're a beast" under her breath.

Barbossa just laughed indulgently. Let her rail, goodness knew she'd earned it.

* * *

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Will was sitting at a table, his head resting on his hands as though he were praying.

Perhaps this could be handled with humor? She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "I can't be_lieve_ you got me whipped like a naughty schoolboy!"

Will's head jerked up. He'd heard the smile in her voice but it didn't matter. "Elizabeth…" he swallowed. "I swear I-"

"No!" she cut him off and took a sharp step forward. "No vows, not that kind. Remember our purpose here? To have even a _chance_ at rescuing Jack we must all stand together."

Will looked away and almost couldn't speak. "So you stand with _him_."

She knelt by his chair and took his face in her hands. "I stand with _you_, Will, against anyone who is your enemy, you have to know that," she whispered. "I love you. I would choose you over the captain, over my father, over Jack… I just…"

"You just don't want to choose." It sounded like an accusation even to _his_ ears.

"There's no need for it. You shouldn't be enemies. Please, try and make this voyage work. For me."

"For you," he echoed. He looked into her tearful eyes and suddenly realized, disgusted with himself, that he couldn't refuse her. He took both her hands and kissed them. "I would do anything for you," he said, "Or at least I would try. But I just don't know if I can forgive someone who's harmed you. You were screaming. I-I'll never get the sound out of my mind…"

"Oh, honestly! He wanted to make a point. It was all show, he didn't even hurt me." But Elizabeth dropped her eyes.

"Don't lie to me." She was silent, and he pressed, "Let me see."

She blushed and laughed nervously. "Will!"

"I mean it. I have to know."

Elizabeth considered it for all of two seconds. "I suppose if we're going to be married…" She turned her back and peeled off her shirt slowly, then unfastened her undershirt too and let it fall away.

But Will could not enjoy the sight – he was too wholly riveted on the single bright red welt that had risen across her back. "Didn't hurt you?" he breathed incredulously.

She sighed. "_One_ stung, Will," she lied. "One out of how many? I think it was a warning. He could have-"

"I know, I know. I'm not stupid, Elizabeth. Shortsighted perhaps, but not stupid." He took a deep breath and tried to get things in perspective. After all, it was hardly a mortal injury. "If it's what you want," he said slowly, "I will try to let this go…but you have no idea how hard it will be."

"You know I love you for trying." She peeked over her shoulder and blew him a kiss.

Welt or not, Will had a hard time battening down the urge to get an early start on their marriage.

* * *

Of course, straightening Will out was only half the battle. Next Elizabeth went to see the captain. "Evening, Miss Elizabeth…how feel ye?"

She didn't mince words. "You may not have had much choice, but I'm not happy with you. Neither is Will. I talked to him though, and I don't think there will be a next time."

He was quiet for a good long moment. "That's good, because I meant it when I said-"

"I know you meant it," she interrupted. "Actions speaking louder than words and all that."

"Did you show Turner?" He had to know if there was a duel in his future.

Elizabeth covered her buttocks with both hands. "Not this one. Brute."

"Had ye been cooperative and started howling right away, that wouldn't have been necessary." She made a disgusted noise but it was at least half pretend. And she was still feeling friendly enough to joke with him. That was promising. "And I trust you told him it was a terrifying and truly inhuman experience that he had better nevercause you again?"

"No, I told him you didn't even hurt me," she said with a proud toss of her head. "You really think I would help make him suffer?"

The captain didn't seem surprised. "Ah, but bruises don't lie, do they? I left you a few for dear William's viewin pleasure…"

"Just one," she said haughtily. "And it'll probably be gone by tomorrow."

"We'll see."

His tone was far too knowing and sinister for Elizabeth's liking, so she changed the subject. "You know, you're not fair to Will. He could be very valuable to you and instead you torment him. He fights well and he's an excellent leader…"

"Which is exactly why I need him to be obedient. Can't you take care of that? Try crying, that would probably bend him."

Honestly irritated now, Elizabeth decided to get a spot of revenge. She advanced on the captain with slow slinky steps, making herself as alluring as ever even though she was dressed in pirates' rags. She leaned close and whispered practically into Barbossa's mouth, "I have better ways of…_persuading_…my husband."

He froze. Swallowed. "Do you now."

"Yes." Her lips had parted and her eyes had dropped from his. She was looking instead at his mouth, and he had to give ground or risk losing what control remained. He took a step back, exhaling sharply, and she smirked at him. Point to Elizabeth.

"By the powers you _are _a very persuasive young lady." He laughed softly. "And you're invited to use your skills on me whenever the mood takes ye. But if Will Turner loses his head again," he warned, "No amount of _persuasion _will save you from a fair bit of permanent damage. Have I made myself heard?"

"Loud and clear, Captain Barbossa." The flirtatiousness had dropped from Elizabeth's manner all at once and she was looking surprised. "You're really…serious?" She could hardly believe it. "You're…"

"…a stone cold barbarian?" he suggested happily. His eyes lit up as he regained control of the room, backing Elizabeth up several paces. "Who'll mutilate a friend just to keep me riffraff pirate crew in hand? _Yes_. Never doubt it for a moment, missie."

She might have doubted it for _a moment_, but a moment was all.

* * *

TBC.

Ok, the projected rendezvous with Jack is still on schedule. It's coming, people, it's coming! Not that the ship can't be convoluted enough without him…

A word on why I treat dear Elizabeth so poorly: I think her performance with Beckett in DMC shows that she has potential to overcome her feminine softiness and become something ofan evil genius (who uses her powers for good). I just think she needs a little more coaching is all.

Leave me a review!


	11. A storm almost takes the whole team

A/N: This chapter is really kind of two chapters all rolled into one, since I'll be away most of the weekend and can't update til I come back. Leave me lots of nice reviews to come home to! Thanks to everyone who's written so far.

* * *

Despite everything Elizabeth ended up spending three more nights in Barbossa's cabin, until she was sure the tear on her arm wouldn't reopen against a swinging hammock. She didn't see where the captain slept during these nights, and in fact she suspected that he didn't sleep at all – he looked awful and was constantly in a foul mood, cursing and railing against even the small spot of bad weather they came up against.

"Things are _not _goin accordin to plan," he snarled at Elizabeth one morning when she asked him what was the matter.

She didn't understand. "What, the rain? This is nothing."

"Yes, exactly! I mean...arrr... Are you feeling any better?"

The distraction was successful: Elizabeth began to grouse. "No, as a matter of fact I am not. You were right – bruises came out the next day, real ones, that haven't gone away yet. Don't tell Will or he'll come after you again. My arm feels awful, it's _itchy _as though something were crawling in it…"

Barbossa wanted to say, _maybe something is,_ but instead told her, "That just means it's starting to get well. Does it still bleed?"

She shook her head.

"Perfect. Then you can start to sleep in a hammock again and I can have me cabin back."

She glared up at him. "Any attempts to throw me out will probably be more successful once you've untied me," she pointed out.

"Aye, fair enough." He went to work on the knot, but was interrupted by a banging on the cabin door.

"Sir I think I've found you a storm!" It was Gibbs, and he was mightily excited about something. "We'll barely have to change course!"

Elizabeth frowned. "We're looking for a storm?"

"Drunk fool," Barbossa snarled to himself, and stormed out of the cabin to chew Gibbs out for his big mouth.

"No! No! Wait, you have to untie me first!" When it was clear he was not coming back, Elizabeth seethed silently for a few moments and considered her options. The last time she had called for help the results had been disastrous, so this time she rolled over onto her side and carefully moved her injured arm towards the bedpost, praying that the moist webby clots would hold.

In the last few weeks the pirates had helped her develop quite an arsenal of curse words, and she ran through the whole thing while she worked on the knot. When she was finally free, eyes watering with pain, she sat up and examined her cut. Her mood improved slightly: it had not reopened.

* * *

Will, meanwhile, was struggling with his own delicate problem. He knew the voyage could never work if the two most charismatic figures on board were forming separate and hostile factions. So, much as it burned to ask forgiveness of a pirate, and sickening as it was to dismiss an injury done to Elizabeth, he finally steeled himself to go through with it.

He went and stood at Barbossa's shoulder while the captain was staring into his spyglass. At least that way he could manage the task without being forced to look at him.

"I need to talk to you." Blunt, almost urgent.

Barbossa's mouth twisted but in profile Will couldn't tell if it was an attempt not to smile, or merely distaste. "Then talk."

"I...uh." Will grasped the railing so hard his hands hurt.

"A truly remarkable event," Barbossa said a moment later, without lowering his spyglass. "Will Turner's courage fails him, for the first time in recent memory."

"Well it looks like your cruelty is still working fine," Will shot back, "So at least we know _some _things are still right with the world." He did not seem to realize that he had been paid a backhanded compliment.

But after a moment he winced. "I shouldn't have said that. I came here to apologize."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I should have known better the other morning. You've always behaved like a gentleman where Elizabeth's concerned..."

"Setting aside the time I took a belt to her," Barbossa corrected cheerfully. He snapped his spyglass closed and turned to look Will in the face. "I'm not concerned with what you _think_, boy, I'm concerned with what you _do_. I cannot have ye challengin my authority in front of the crew. That can lead only to trouble."

"I- I know. I lost my head. I thought you'd hurt her and I couldn't think. I apologize."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that thinkin is supposed to come _before _acting?"

Will laughed a little. "You mean other than Jack? I've lost count of the times I got his 'opportune moment' lecture..."

"You'd do well to take it to heart. And to prove to me that you'll obey orders from now on without question."

Will was surprised at how easy he'd gotten off. "I will," he assured. "And...also...I know you've been teaching Elizabeth...helping to look out for her...whatever. She appreciates it. So do I. You can count on me, from now on, I mean it."

Barbossa just grunted and waved him away.

Will went, having no way of knowing that his life depended on whether or not the captain was fully convinced.

* * *

This time Gibbs had really and truly found a storm. High winds, sheets of rain, and seas choppy enough to make even Jack (the monkey) seasick.

Gibbs hollered for the captain to drop canvas, but Barbossa thought if they could only just hang on a little longer, they might come out on the other side of the worst of it. With the fierce wind at their back would make spectacular time. Of course, the plan had the slight disadvantage of risking all their lives, but one couldn't have everything, could one?

Will overheard the brief argument and muttered, "I hope you know what you're doing."

As though he could read minds, the captain looked over at him and grinned. "Afraid, boy?"

Will shook his soaked hair out of his eyes. "Not a chance!" And it was true. Given the choice he knew he would probably have made the same decision - only _without _weighing the pros and cons first. But he wasn't entirely insensible to danger, either - when the weather got really bad, he made Elizabeth go below deck.

* * *

But eventually the storm worsened to the point that she was called back up again. "I can't do anything - I'm hurt, remember?" she shouted at point blank range to the captain. The wind was so bad she didn't even know if he heard her.

As it turned out, hearing each other was exactly the problem. The wheel had become a two-man job, and with both Barbossa and Gibbs glued to it, communication with the crew was suffering. "You can pay attention, and run messages," Barbossa shouted back. "Now-"

"Look!"

Cotton was waving his arms desperately, trying to get the captain's attention.

"Find out what he wants."

She fought her way over to him and eventually understood his pantomiming (The parrot had taken refuge in the hold and so could not translate).

"The lines are fouled up there," she explained, pointing, once she had made it back to Barbossa. "That sail - see it? It's caught..."

He squinted up into the driving rain for a moment, then turned his attention back to his violent struggle with the wheel.

"Someone'll go aloft and set it right," he barked. "Go! Find Turner!"

"Aloft?" Elizabeth could barely withstand the ship's pitching with both feet flat on the deck and the railing to hang onto. How was Will supposed to _climb _in this weather? But she fetched him anyway and briefed him on the situation.

"Shall I cut it loose?" He had to scream to be heard, even at a distance of six inches.

"It won't come free on its own and we can't risk the mast. Aye, cut. Elizabeth!" Barbossa let go of the wheel for one instant to shove a coil of rope into her hands. "Tie one end there. Then make the other end fast to Turner..._very _fast."

Elizabeth gaped at him, but when he shoved her away she did as she was told. She got the rope around Will's waist and made a solid knot the way Barbossa had shown her. "This will hold," she yelled into his ear.

Will yanked on the knot. "I hope so," he yelled back. "Elizabeth – for luck." He kissed her hard on the lips, quickly, and went up.

Elizabeth stared after him, a hand pressed to her mouth, too frozen with terror to look away. She watched him dangle precariously over the raging ocean, sawing away at a thick rope with his puny little knife. Her heart caught in her throat every time a wave leaped up or he slipped and had to regain a better grip, but each time he weathered it and continued to work. Finally, the rope parted and he stuck the knife between his teeth, his job finished.

She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

But it was cut short as the ship bucked wildly and tossed Will out of the rigging and into the sea.

"NOOO!" Elizabeth screamed at the top of her lungs. "WILL!" She lunged for the railing, fully intending to go over after him.

Fortunately Barbossa was a step ahead of her. As soon as he saw the boy's hold slip, he left the wheel to Gibbs and bolted. Before Elizabeth was even within grabbing distance of the rail, he had his arms around her and tackled her to the deck. "Get ahold of yourself," he ordered, "This be no time to lose our heads!"

She was thrashing around like a dog on a beehive. "Get off me! Will! _WILLLL_!"

Barbossa got up and dragged her to her feet, holding onto her hair with one hand and Will's rope with the other. "Wait til she dips again, and we'll haul him aboard. Understand?"

A moment later, the _And Back_ dipped again, and there was enough slack to take the rope in another few feet. Elizabeth pulled as hard as she could, but it was as though she were trying to lift up the Governor's mansion all by herself. "Why isn't anybody helping?" she cried.

Barbossa was losing patience with her. "They're makin sure the rest of us don't sink to join him," he snarled. "Now, if you want to save your precious William, it's heave when I say so and no more words. Ready, _heave._"

Between the rain and her tears, Elizabeth could see nothing at all. She followed orders until she was at the very end of her strength, but when Will's limp body finally crashed up against the railing, the sight shook her so badly that she collapsed in a heap. The captain had to lift the boy over by himself.

He shook him and when that failed, gave him a good solid knee to the stomach. Will erupted in a fit of coughing at once and attempted to sit up. "Take him below and make sure he gets the water out of him," Barbossa ordered Elizabeth. "And then get your pretty little carcass back up here at once, hear? We need every hand."

Barbossa lurched across the deck and regained the wheel. "All goin according to plan, cap'n?" Gibbs shouted. It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Oh yes. As long as we all make it through til tomorrow, things are going just perfect." Barbossa glared at him, annoyed that a split-second decision had robbed him of his easy chance to get rid of Turner for good. "Now enough with the stupid questions. We've gone off course - again. Get back to work!"

* * *

It was hard to tell, because the sky was inky black and the lightning the only source of illumination the whole time, but it turned out they fought the storm for the rest of the night and much of the next morning. Around the time when the sun would be highest in the sky - if there had been a sun shining at all, which there decidedly was _not _- Gibbs was the first to perceive the end of the nightmare. "Look cap'n! Grey!"

He was right. Thick grey clouds - which normally don't look all that appealing - signaled the beginning of the end. The constant pelting assault from on high transformed itself into normal rain. The waves gentled so that even Elizabeth could keep her feet under her (as long as she held onto something). And, best of all, in the distance they could see rays of sunlight, rather than lightning, reaching down from the sky to the sea.

The _And Back_ was still afloat and was moving with a speed Gibbs had never before seen from any ship. The plan had worked. Gibbs glanced sideways at Captain Barbossa, who stood with his hands on his hips looking very wet, very worn, and very proud. Gibbs tried hard to squash the superstitious urge to make a sign against the Evil Eye... But then he chanced to look back into the monstrous storm the captain had called for and then beaten, and he found he couldn't help himself.

* * *

TBC….

So soon we're going to have Jack. We will also have Norrington again and some other surprise guests. No OC's though, so I guess process of elimination means that any "surprise" guests won't really be surprises. Oh, well.


	12. Elizabeth draws blood

A/N: In this chapter I give Barbossa credit for being able to swordfight with either hand. I figure with years of pirating experience and given that "anybody dares challenge me" speech, it's reasonable to assume he's a good swordsman who has had to fight lefty out of necessity every now and again, and has probably learned a few tricks just to have up his sleeve.

* * *

Will felt a little embarrassed about his near-drowning experience, rather relieved that it hadn't become an actually-drowning experience, and _extremely _guilty for what it had done to Elizabeth: not only had it terrified her, it had forced her to exert herself to the point that her bullet wound cracked open and began to ooze blood again.

"If where we're going is really so dangerous," he told her after a few days of little improvement, "You'd better learn to handle a sword with your other hand." He cleared a spot of deck to practice on showed her the basics. They drilled until he was satisfied that she could hold and move the sword properly, and then he went to fetch some assistance. "Captain, can I borrow you a moment?"

Barbossa seemed surprised at the question, so Will explained, "I need help demonstrating things to Elizabeth with a sword. In theory I know what I'm doing left-handed, but I've got no experience at all. I figured you might do better…?"

"Might?" Barbossa squashed his impulse to draw at once and show this boy exactly how much better he actually was. "Very well," he said instead, "it so happens I am perfectly capable. What do you want?"

They went over to Elizabeth, who sat on a barrel trying to catch her breath, pleasantly shiny from exercise.

"Elizabeth. The Captain and I are going to go for a bit – _very slowly and carefully –_" he emphasized with a stern look in Barbossa's direction, "And I want you to take special note of the way he protects himself when I'm pressing the attack. He'll prefer to hold his blade to the outside of mine. That makes things simple for him, because then it's the same motion to parry a blow to any part of his body. It's good policy, watch for it. Ready?"

"Aye." Barbossa drew and from then on didn't take his eyes off his opponent, even when he addressed Elizabeth in a gutteral growl: "Remember when yer pickin up his pieces: t'was _he _who asked to cross blades, not me."

Elizabeth had absolute confidence in her fiancé. "I'll keep it in mind."

And indeed it was Will who scored the first advantage - Barbossa protected himself masterfully at first while Will demonstrated an aggressive attack, but eventually saw an opening and couldn't resist reaching for it. Too quickly.

WIll was still out of distance and so Barbossa missed, but they all heard the ripping of fabric as the sleeve of the captain's coat came into contact with Will's riposte.

"You'll want to be careful there, mate," Will warned gleefully. "You're not immortal anymore."

Barbossa shrugged and swung for him again. "It's only an arm - that's why God gives us two of them!"

"Are you all right?" Will sounded concerned, despite the fact that he was apparently trying to slice off Barbossa's head in the exact same moment.

"Didn't even touch me, boy."

If he were telling the truth (and despite what Will might have thought, he was), first blood had not yet been drawn. So the game was still on. They fenced quickly but calmly, moving well beyond the designated 'practice area' to fight among boxes and equipment and drunk pirates.

Barbossa had a far superior sense for the motion of the boat, though, and when he timed a sudden leap forwards with the floor's rocking, Will lost his balance and fell flat on his ass. Barbossa stepped on Will's blade and simultaneously brought his own right up to the boy's throat. A small, deliberate flick of his wrist, and Will was irritated to feel a drop of blood slide down towards his collar.

"Was that really necessary? I wanted to show her how you _defend _yourself."

Barbossa sheathed his sword and offered a hand to pull Will to his feet. "She should know that the best defense is whatever makes the enemy stop breathin fastest."

Elizabeth hopped off her perch and came over. "I saw that parry you were talking about. But, Captain, sometimes you did it almost before Will even started moving. You couldn't possibly have reacted that quickly. Did you guess, anticipate, what?"

Barbossa turned to Will. "You tense up very noticeably before you strike," he informed him. "Dead giveaway."

"Oh, you mean like the way _you _did just before I put a hole in your coat?" Will retorted, then heaved a sigh and looked to the sky. "I'm sorry. I know, think _before _I speak, I know, I know."

But the pirate hadn't taken any offense. "Yes, as a matter of fact exactly like that. I don't do it all that often, but it's a fairly common mistake. Stems from a desire to finish the fight quickly."

"A reasonable desire when one's life is on the line," Will agreed, then laughed. "Although I suppose it's a mistake Jack Sparrow doesn't make much. Fighting's always different with him – I swear every time we cross blades it's like he thinks fighting is all a big harmless joke."

"Jack Sparrow," Barbossa snorted contemptuously. "Now _there's _a master swordsman. Hmph. I would have had an easier time teaching swordplay to Jack the monkey."

Elizabeth was interested. "You taught swordplay to Jack Sparrow?"

"Aye." Seeing that she wanted more, Barbossa explained: "It might be hard to see after ten years of not aging, but Jack Sparrow was just a child when I met him. Cabin boy aboard one of my ships."

Will frowned. "Yet he was _your _captain when you sailed for Isla de Muerta?"

"He was." Barbossa's mood darkened all of a sudden. "Well I suppose you should know the whole story – it's the heart of all this mess anyway. Once upon a time, under my command, the _Pearl _got herself into a battle we couldn't win. We loved that ship…decided to scuttle her rather than turn her over. We put a couple of good holes into her and watched her sink." He paused. "You have to understand, I had _no idea _what Jack was planning. I would never have allowed it, not for any ship ever built by human hands." Barbossa wiped a hand across his face and looked down. "He struck a deal with Davy Jones himself," he explained heavily. "Jones raised the _Black Pearl_ from the depths for him, and named him captain."

"And you just let him take over?" It didn't jive with what Will knew of this man.

"It was not a ship nor a crew I wanted no more," Barbossa snapped. "After that day Jack was like a man with the plague. No one wanted to sail with him and people fired on our ship on sight. He was cursed. Damned, even."

Elizabeth nodded. "I've heard a story that Jack Sparrow's a pirate so hell-bent on wreaking havoc that after sinking to the bottom of the sea he rose back up again, because he hadn't yet reached his goals of exactly how many ships to take and towns to burn. I suppose that's where that story came from."

"Likely as not. Anyway, I wanted to leave the ship myself and start anew somewhere, but Jack begged me to stay on. Smart move on his part – in all my years at sea I had only that one disaster with the _Pearl _to my name, and he really wasn't yet capable of captaining the ship on his own. He needed me. I stayed. It was a mistake – the atmosphere on that ship was poison. Eventually it got so bad we put in at Tortuga and hired us a whole new crew. He wanted to go after the Aztec treasure. In retrospect it was a terrible idea, but we all know how persuasive Jack can be. Problem is, we were sailing with the dregs by then, and Jack's a terrible captain. He couldn't keep them in line. I could." He shrugged. "You know what happened after that."

There was a long silence while Will and Elizabeth updated their opinions of the pirate before them. Finally, though, Barbossa got bored of standing around and nudged Elizabeth with his boot. "So. Shall we see what you've learned, missie? Let's you and I have a go. I'll be gentle – and right-handed so I don't make any mistakes."

But the story had sobered Elizabeth up too much and she no longer felt like prancing about with a sword. "No, I don't think I'm in the mood," she answered.

That was the wrong answer. "Mood?" All of a sudden Barbossa's eyes got very wide and very dangerous. "No I'm afraid _mood _is what tells you when to make love or write poetry. _Mood _has nothing to do with fightin. You fight _whenever_ you have to fight. Get up or I'll run you through."

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and drew her weapon, feeling a spike of adrenaline that certainly put her in the _mood_.

* * *

Playfighting with Captain Barbossa turned out to be a harrowing experience. Every now and again he would tell her what he was going to do before he did it, and then constructively evaluate her response. But then he sometimes would turn savage, locking her blade up with his and bellowing "_Rarrrr!" _into her face.

The first time he did that, she screamed in surprise and dropped her sword completely. It landed quivering in the deck, point first, a mere two inches from their feet. Oops. Barbossa glanced at it and then back up at her, eyebrows raised. No words were even necessary.

But eventually she started doing better. "You must _read _who you're fightin. I am eager. I am in a hurry. Here I come. Watch for it- Good. Little earlier though. _Oh _I'm hurryin now. _Oh_ here I- _arrr_, that's better, good."

After she seemed to have got the hang of protecting herself left-handed, Barbossa switched _his_ sword to his left hand and pressed the attack hard.

"Aah! No! – Stop – it," she gasped, her words punctuated by the clanging of steel. "Notfair! It's all – backwards! That's – not – fair, Captain!"

"Fair?" Will asked from the sidelines, amused. "From a pirate? Oh, you'd better teach her about that one, Barbossa."

He laughed and didn't let up. "Are you ready to die? You can't get tired! Come on, have at it! One more, one more good one. Want to stop? Better kill me first!"

She managed one passably ferocious attack which – although he deflected it without the ghost of trouble – satisfied him enough to make him throw down his sword and fall to his knees. "And I surrender to ye. Nice work, miss."

Elizabeth stepped forward to better menace him with her swordpoint. She was teasing... until she noticed he wasn't getting up. "Well?"

"Well yourself," he answered from the ground. "Let's have blood."

"Blood?" she echoed, uncomprehending. "You mean – I don't understand – make you bleed? I can't."

"Better learn." When she still didn't move, he explained, "It's bad luck to end a swordfight with no blood spilled. If it's not me it'll be you. So unless _that's _what you want..."

"But I..." Elizabeth put her blade against the side of his neck, the edge facing down, resting on his shoulder. "Are you serious?"

"Aye."

"Are you sure-? I don't know if I can just..." She frowned.

"Go on."

Elizabeth put her other hand on Barbossa's opposite shoulder, then pressed down on her blade and drew it firmly towards herself. Her hand didn't even shake. She glanced down to see the blood well up and then met his eyes.

"Mmmm," he said, mildly sarcastic but sounding almost as if he really had a taste for it. "Stings."

Elizabeth put her sword away and touched the shallow cut gingerly. "I can't believe I just did that," she mused. "Are you all right?"

Barbossa just laughed at her and told her to go clean herself up. When she was gone, he stood up, touched his shoulder, and licked his fingers. Will would have liked to believe he was just playing to the audience. "You made that up," he accused.

"What?"

"About it being bad luck not to draw blood. You just made that up right now."

"So?" Barbossa was not in the least apologetic. "Don't you feel better knowing that the girl's got a bit of spine to her?"

"I would feel _better _knowing my captain wasn't crazy," Will answered. But then Elizabeth came running back and he let the matter drop.

Barbossa intercepted her. "What's wrong, missie?" She turned sideways to show him and he observed: "Well, don't _this _be a pretty color."

Elizabeth made a face. "I wasn't bleeding like this this morning. I think it was all the running around fighting. I'm back to square one, aren't I?"

He took a closer look at the cut, then decided, "No, I'd say it's more square two or square three."

She cursed and stamped her foot, which made him laugh. "Such a lady."

Before she could answer, she was distracted by a commotion from the crow's nest. "Captain! Captain! Land!"

He looked up quickly. "What?" He raced to the rail and unfolded his spyglass with shaking fingers. "It's them," he whispered. "God above, it's the Gates..."

"The what?" Elizabeth tried to pry the spyglass from his hands. "But a few days ago you said we still had a month of sailing before-"

"So I did," Barbossa agreed, sounding concerned. "The map works different here, aye. But that it's already _so _different from what I remember..." He handed the spyglass to her and did not complete his sentence, but Elizabeth had a feeling that it would have included the word _afraid_.

She peered into the glass and what she saw took her breath away. "How on earth are we supposed to get through those rocks? It's like…it's a labyrinth…"

"Yes. A labyrinth of rocks and monsters not of this world. Waters where a north wind might blow you westward. A thousand and a half petty dangers that only end when you reach a pair of great stones – the Gates, I call them – and sail through to the _other side_." He looked very serious. "I can't even say for certain what we'll face or when."

"We're going into this blind, aren't we?" she realized.

She sounded panicked and he couldn't allow that. "Blind_folded_," he corrected. "And fortunately we've that one impossible prisoner who always manages to see around the edges."

"You."

"Aye."

* * *

TBC.

Credits for this chapter:

- The line about mood and fighting was pirated outta Dune. It actually goes: "Mood? What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises – no matter what the mood! Mood's a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It's not for fighting."

- The idea about the older and more experienced pirate staying on as first mate to lend credibility to a new captain is borrowed very lovingly from _Princess Bride_. (That's how Westley became the Dread Pirate Roberts, for those who don't remember.)

Yes, we _are _still on target for meeting Jackypoo. Soon now. Probably the chapter after the chapter after next.

And a word about my backstory: I honestly think it went down something like this. Jack and Barbossa are just too much alike and too friendly the whole movie. Not to mention the question of what possesses Barbossa to go rescue him. So what do you think?


	13. Barbossa pays a debt

A/N: Yes, this is a _very _long chapter because I want us to get to Jack as soon as possible. I'll try to keep my promise and do it in two more chapters. But as you'll see in a minute, there have been complications…

* * *

But the first big problem arose before they even reached the Gates. It was a warm and lazy morning, a nice breeze and quiet seas…

Until, without any warning whatsoever, a massive spray of water roared up, drenching the deck and everyone aboard. Something was erupting out of the ocean and nobody needed to wait for the spray to settle to know what it was.

The _Flying Dutchman_.

In mindless terror Elizabeth grabbed for the captain's arm and cowered behind him. His face showed dismay but little surprise.

"Get below deck," he murmured. "Before you're seen. _Go_!" He shook her off and stepped close to the rail.

Elizabeth fled as far as the mast and hid behind it. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the loathsome fish-people as possible, but under no circumstances would she run away and hide where she could be of no use. She watched Barbossa call Will to him and give him instructions that, judging by the gestures that accompanied them, were: _Stay put!_

She held her breath and watched as Davy Jones himself moved to the _Dutchman's _railing to put himself in shouting distance.

"Smooth sailin to ye, Davy Jones" Barbossa called over, tipping his hat. "Might I ask what moved ye to pay me a visit?"

It seemed Jones was not in the mood for pleasantries. "You have a debt."

_Not that! _Elizabeth very nearly groaned aloud, but Barbossa took the pronouncement in stride. "The last time we spoke you said there was nothin I could do for ye," he recalled. "Have you decided now?"

"I have. And if you refuse me I'll have you and all your crew slaughtered."

"Oh, there's probably no need for that," Barbossa assured him quickly. "I still won't part with me soul, but as for anything else...just tell me what you want and you'll have it."

The monster raised his claw and pointed. "Him."

Barbossa frowned as Will edged closer to him nervously. "The boy? Will Turner?"

"None other. He and I have a score to settle. Give him over, and I'll let you pass."

Elizabeth gasped _no _but Barbossa still didn't seem rattled. "No need to worry - I'll handle this," he said quietly to Will, who looked about ready to panic. He put a reassuring hand on Will's shoulder and stepped close to him, making his position clear to the _Dutchman_'s captain. "I'm afraid you've asked for something that's rather important to me and my crew."

Will let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He felt the tension drain out of his whole body and suddenly felt incredibly light and confident. Barbossa was going to stand up for him after all! Nobody was hanging him out to dry. Everything would be fine.

Barbossa immediately capitalized on this momentary unpreparedness. In one smooth motion, he drew and cocked and fired his pistol into Will's chest before Will even knew what was going on.

Bang.

Will stood staring in shock at the blood pouring down his shirt. It hadn't started to hurt yet. He watched it for a moment and then looked up at Barbossa and all he could think to say was, "You cheated."

"I'm a pirate, boy." Barbossa's knife was in his hand in a flash and he slit Will's throat to speed up the dying process. "Apologies."

It wasn't until Will crumpled lifeless to the floor that Elizabeth got herself together enough to scream.

Barbossa ignored her. He calmly reached down and, once he was satisfied that there was no more heartbeat, heaved the body over the railing. Elizabeth tried to follow it, still screaming, but several men held her back.

Barbossa didn't like the way Davy Jones was watching her. "I would never rob the sea of its prey. You have what you want," he added a moment later, when Jones still didn't seem to be listening. "So may we pass?"

At last Jones tore his attention away from the hysterical woman fighting to dive over the side. His tentacles writhed in irritation. "I would much prefer to have had the boy alive, Captain," he said finally, "But I see I was not clear with you. You've done your duty by me. We're quits, and you may pass." He turned to his crew and bellowed "_DOWN!_" and a moment later the _Dutchman _had disappeared beneath the water.

Barbossa was so dizzy with panic and adrenaline and relief that he couldn't yet let go of the railing. He closed his eyes and waited until he felt able to talk again, then turned around to look at the crew. Judging by their faces, the general consensus was a sort of horrified awe.

All except Elizabeth, that is. She seemed to have fainted.

So much the better."Does any man here think we could have fought the Kraken and won?"

No answer.

"Does any man here wish he had given his life to try?"

No answer.

"Then I'm not goin to hear a single word about what just happened, am I." He made a point of staring down every single person who looked uncomfortable.

The only one to speak up was Gibbs. "T'was unfortunate, sir. And we all understand that."

* * *

A while later Barbossa banged on his cabin door. "Elizabeth? May I come in?" She only sobbed louder, and he took that as a yes. He entered the cabin, stepped over her, and poured drinks. "Before you get started, just remember: there's not much you can say to me that won't make a hypocrite of you." He put her glass on the floor beside her and then stood back up.

"I don't care," he made out through her tears. "I hate you, that was _Will_, it was _Will_ and you k-k--killed him!"

"What would you have me do, hmm?" He took a sip, trying hard to contain his irritation. The girl was grief-stricken, after all. She should be given a little latitude. "Did you think we could have fought the Kraken? You know better than most how that turns out." Of course she had no answer to that. "Then would you rather I'd left him to the mercies of the monster? Missie, I've _been _on that ship, I've _seen _what Jones does to them and _heard _how he feels about your man. Take it from one who knows: death is _not _the worst there is, and what William was headed for was-"

"I d-don't _CARE_!" Elizabeth screamed, to shut him up. "I don't care if you're right or anything else! You killed Will, my Will, you took him from me! How, how could you? _Will_?" She dragged herself off the ground into a sitting position, downed the drink he had poured for her in one swallow, and recommenced sobbing.

"Come on now – get up," he snapped. "Lyin on the ground doesn't solve anything."

"Oh, would you rather I solved things _your _way?" Elizabeth lurched to her feet and came at him. "And just did _whatever brutal thing _I could think of at the moment?" She didn't happen to have anything sharp handy, so she just hit him as hard as she could.

For a moment they both stood frozen in surprise, but then Barbossa turned away from her, rubbing his cheek. "At least you had the dog's wit not to do that in front of the men," he muttered.

"I'm s-sorry," she said after a moment, still crying. "I kn-know it's n-not your fault and I did the s-same thing given the same choice. I know that. But _Will_...my life...he..._Will, _oh God...I'm sorry but I hate you. Get out of this room or I swear I'll kill you."

It didn't even occur to Barbossa that she was throwing him out of his own cabin. He went without a word. And left her the rum.

* * *

Having taken possession of the captain's cabin, Elizabeth proceeded to sob and drink her way through most of the perils that edged the world. She was snoring soundly when a snarling beast with several doggy heads snatched three people from the rigging and tore them limb from limb in front of their comrades. (General opinion was that the captain had deliberately given those particular sailors tasks in the rigging at that time...but since everyone was glad not to have been chosen, nobody asked him about it.)

The rum made it impossible for her to know when the ship was hitting things, since she was _always _lurching about unable to keep her feet under her, but she knew from the frantic bailing and repairs going on outside that they had been blown against rocks at least once or twice. At the thought of people working on the ship – the way Will had when he'd risked his life to climb up in the storm for them – Elizabeth would start crying and drinking all over again. She got a dim and petty satisfaction out of throwing up all over Barbossa's desk and then his bed... before she realized that she now had nowhere to sleep. Bah. The floor then.

Elizabeth missed the first sea-serpent, which was unfortunate because her Kraken-fighting experience might have come in handy. It came creeping up the sides of the ship, a massive snakelike creature with scales too tough to pierce with a mere cutlass. It ate one person and maimed several more until it was finally dispatched by Jack the monkey, who put a dagger between his teeth, scampered down the beast's throat, and wreaked havoc there until it stopped moving.

She did see the second sea-serpent. Sick of hearing screams and thuds and crashes, Elizabeth stumbled up on deck with a fresh bottle of rum in her hand (it was already her third of the day) just as the serpent boarded. "_Leavusalone_!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Wouldja just bloody _go AWAY_!" She flung her rum at it and the bottle shattered over the beast's head. "GOAWAY!" She picked up the nearest objects she could find and threw them next - her shoe, someone's severed hand, and a lantern. While the shoe and hand were not of much use, the lantern shattered and the serpent was suddenly wreathed in flames. It flopped straight back into the sea to cool down, and Elizabeth chased it as far as the railing shouting at it before she passed out again, dead drunk.

* * *

When Elizabeth woke up next, she was still on deck and Gibbs was standing over her. "Where am I?"

"Captain," Gibbs called, "She's awake." He squatted down very carefully to see how she was, and that was when Elizabeth noticed that the lower part of his right leg was entirely encased in bloody bandages.

"What happened?"

"Things got a little rough earlier while you were, um, restin," he said. "Sea snakes boarded. A rock pillar grew out of the very sea in front of us, shot right up and nearly-"

"I'm sorry!" Elizabeth sat up and began to cry. "I should have been there, helping, I'm _useless_! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, now don't you fret, Miss Elizabeth," he comforted her awkwardly. "You've had a rough time too, we all know that. With Will and all."

"_Wiiiiiillllllllll_!"

Gibbs winced. "Miss Elizabeth? Come on now, lassie, stop it. I have me an idea."

He looked simultaneously crafty and stupid, but Elizabeth didn't have any better prospects right now. "An idea?" she repeated without much hope.

"Aye, an idea." Gibbs looked around to make sure nobody was watching. "Given your, um, _special relationship _with the captain-"

"Special _-hic-_ relationship?" Elizabeth interrupted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gibbs rubbed the back of his neck. "To be perfectly honest, it means yer not afraid of him the way the rest of us are. Now listen. _If _you dare ask him...my thought is...what's to stop...that is, why can't we go searchin for young William in the land beyond World's End too, the same way we're searchin for Jack?"

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. "Will? Save Will? You mean we could bring him back..." she almost fainted. She had been wallowing so deeply in grief and drink that the thought hadn't even occurred to her until now. "Where's Barbossa, I have to talk to him."

She stood too fast, fell down again, and tried a second time. There. Feet beneath her. Run. Cabin. "CaptainpleaseIhavetotalktoyou!"

He had stripped down to his undershirt and was removing the stinking blankets from his bed. "I should whip you for this." He sounded exhausted, so much so that he couldn't even summon the energy to be bad-tempered.

But Elizabeth couldn't stop and wait for a better time. "Please, forget about the bed for a moment, listen to me, look." As soon as it looked like she had his attention she began to beg. "When we get to the lands beyond, Will's there isn't he? I mean if he's dead he must be, well we can find him, please, you have to look for him, please, if he's there we can find him and bring him back-"

"Is _that _what this is?" he turned back to gathering up the vomit-soaked bedding. "Do you think I hadn't thought of that already? Never mind. Move." He shoved past her and dumped the mess on the floor outside. "Rinse this out when you get a chance," he snapped to Cotton, who seemed, judging from the bandage, now to have only one eye. Barbossa pushed his dirty hair out of his face and turned back to Elizabeth. "It's not that simple, miss. Sober up and then we'll talk."

"S-" Elizabeth echoed, outraged. "But I _am_ sober! What do you mean _-hic-_ talk, there's nothing to _talk _about, there's _Will, _we have to save Will!"

After he'd swallowed down the urge to bite her head off, it struck Barbossa how very pretty she was at this moment. He knew he was a mess but he couldn't resist reaching out and touching her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You really are in love, aren't you," he observed. "It's very becoming."

All her insistence to the contrary, Elizabeth was in fact drunk as a skunk. All she understood from him was that he looked sad, he touched her, and he thought she was pretty. Aha. Perhaps he wanted to negotiate? Elizabeth could live with that. Will was the important thing, saving Will by any means necessary. It was unfortunate that the pirate was covered in sweat and dirt and blood and vomit, but she thought she could handle it.

-_hic_-.

"Is that so?" Elizabeth asked. "Well, you know what I want, I've told you, I want to get Will. I'm prepared to offer things in exchange." He didn't answer. "_Anything,"_she clarified sloppily. "You can ask me for anything you want, and I promise..." She reached up and began to unlace her undershirt right there on deck. "... I'll give it to you."

His hand shot out and yanked hers away. "None o'that, missie, not here," he growled. "If that's how you feel we'll talk. Come on."

He dragged her into his cabin and tossed her down on the bed.

* * *

TBC.

Oh, don't _worry_, I'm not going to have my second-favorite pirate take advantage of a drunk widow half his age. That would be too screwed up – even for me. :o)

And it's not random that the _Dutchman _showed up when and where it did. More on that later.


	14. A dead man loses his temper

A/N: Yes, I know Elizabeth's been doing unusual amounts of crying, and she'll do more this chapter. I think it reasonable that the death of her loverboy did quite a number on her. But she'll get her equilibrium back, never fear.

* * *

"Sleep," Barbossa ordered, turning away from her with a bit of difficulty. "You are not in your right mind, and neither am I. Do you have _any _idea what this ship has been through while you've been off sashaying around grogland? Hmm? I am at the end of my patience and my good behavior and my everythin else. It's not wise to push me any further."

"Hmm?" Elizabeth sat up on the bare, lumpy mattress and asked (because she really couldn't remember) "What did I do wrong?"

He went to the bucket of seawater in the corner and splashed some over his face - the pirate version of a bath, which he took (unusually frequently for a pirate) every few days. "No, you see, the problem is what you're doing _right_. Do girls go to a _school _to learn how to torment people, or is it something you all make up on your own?" He was momentarily distracted from Elizabeth when the bathwater stung a wound he didn't even remember acquiring. It really had been a long few days. He cleaned up and got fully dressed, coat and hat and all, and only then looked back at her. "Oh would you _stop_!" He stormed over and roughly laced up her undershirt. "There, now go to sleep."

"But I'm not even -_bluhgh_- tired."

Barbossa didn't like that sound. He lunged for a bucket just in time, and held her hair out of it while she was sick again. When it looked like she was finally done, he kept the grip on her hair to jerk her head back and emphasize the warning: "If you filthy up what's left of my cabin I'll throw you overboard."

"I wanted to ask you about something..."

"We'll talk when you wake up. And if you still want to try and _persuade _me when you're sober, well...you have my word I'll listen." He left, laughing, and Elizabeth dozed off not quite able to grasp what was so funny.

* * *

When she woke up she drank the water someone had left out for her and just lay still waiting to feel better. It didn't happen...but she used the time to chew over the events of the last few days, so it wasn't a total loss.

Eventually she dragged herself to her feet and went on deck, where everyone, including the captain and Jack the monkey, was busy working. A wave had apparently taken a large bite out of the railing around the foredeck, and Barbossa himself was helping to fix it. Elizabeth tapped him on the shoulder. "I thought the captain was supposed to sit and do nothing while everyone _else _slaved in the hot sun."

He had planned to give her a real earful, but it was so nice to see her up and about that he only shrugged. "Desperate times."

"I see. What can I do?"

"See to the men who're injured," he answered immediately.

"I've no medical knowl-"

"It's more for morale than anythin else."

Elizabeth had planned to start pleading Will's case the moment she could, but decided that it might be better to take the time to rack up some goodwill first. She cleaned out bites and cuts, pulled shards of wood from infected and bleeding injuries, and soothed fevers with wet cloths. Everything took twice as long as it ought because the men were starved for a sympathetic (and attractive) listener to pour out their stories to.

Finally Barbossa broke up the line by snarling "Arrr, are ye a bunch of women! Get back to work!" He took Elizabeth aside, made sure nobody was listening, and got straight to the point. "I must say your mood has me a bit concerned, missie."

"My mood?"

"It's too good. You seem to think I've agreed to go after William for you, but-"

"Is the problem that we can't, or that you won't?" Elizabeth interrupted, all business. "Because if it's the latter, then I'm sure you and I can come to some kind of arrangement. If it's the former...I'll think of something."

His reply didn't quite answer her question. "I named this ship for a reason."

"But finding Will won't put us in any more danger than finding Jack! Or will it?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "Every second we spend in that place puts us in danger. Not to mention what Davy Jones will say when he sees-"

"Davy Jones? What's he got to do with this?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Most gates have got a gatekeeper, Elizabeth. Why do you think I owed Jones a debt in the first place?"

* * *

But of course, as she had known (and he himself had suspected) in the end Barbossa couldn't bring himself to say no. He worked the crew up into a screaming lather for her and got them all to agree - no, to _insist _- that any and all manner of risks should be undertaken to ensure young William's safe return.

"We all set out on this voyage _together_, to cheat death!" the captain declared grandly. "And we have _all _fought and risked and sacrificed to make it this far! How many of you have had a brush with eternity these past weeks - and made it through, with your courage and wit and a bit o'luck?" He waited for their roars. "Aye! And had luck deserted us, had the sea or its beasts claimed ye... do you not think we would have come after ye too?"

He could hear one of the dimmer pirates mutter to another, "Oh, that's nice, it really is. Makes you feel right homey, don't it? Like a family."

"I named this ship because I am bringing us _back _from the end of the world! All of us! And I will _not _allow one of us to be left behind. So I say we find Turner. What say you - who's with me?"

The cheers were deafening, and nobody asked inconvenient questions like "And what about all the others who died, what will we do for them?". Elizabeth thought that for all their fearsome reputation, pirates seemed a lot more like sheep than anything else.

* * *

As soon as they were alone again, Elizabeth threw her arms around the captain and cried into his shoulder. He considered lying to her and telling her everything would be fine, but in the end settled for patting her back in a reassuring sort of way. It was less of a lie, and had the same effect of stopping that infernal crying.

When Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, she found herself face to face with a patch of dried blood on the captain's collar. "Why did you make me do this?" she asked abruptly, touching the cut. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "I never got a chance to ask."

He hesitated. "Do you really want a lesson now?"

"Anything to distract me. Captain?... It really will be all right...?"

There would be no point to giving her an honest answer. "Everything will be _fine_, Elizabeth," he assured her with a perfect imitation of sincerity. "We'll find him." He sat down on the bed and motioned for her to sit next to him. "Now, pay attention. Do you know why I had you cut me?"

"No. That's why I asked."

"Because blood's a very useful instructional tool. Cock a gun and you could be bluffing, but once you make a man bleed he knows in his bones that you're serious in what you say. It makes people realize how vulnerable they actually are."

"Not to mention it hurts," she added, closing her hand around the scar on her palm.

"Aye, that too. The man who cuts someone without battin an eye is the man at the helm of the situation, that's for certain." He nudged her. "But that be a secret, you realize," he whispered. "Not to be shared with the crew nor anybody else. If they know that somethin's behind it besides a real animal urge for blood, you lose the edge."

"I see." Elizabeth thought about it for a moment, then stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "So do you think I should carry a blade? All I've got is my sword, and there's really no finesse with that."

Barbossa was amused. "For now, I say definitely yes. For your future as a wife and mother and high-class society woman... I suppose I don't see why not then, too."

He took it as a positive sign that the "wife and mother" comment didn't start her crying again.

* * *

Despite Barbossa's troubling remark about gatekeepers, they sailed through the great stone Gates without any further hindrance. Coming out the other side, Elizabeth half-expected a barrage of lights and faeries and all sorts of marvelous things...and was thus half-disappointed.

The seas beyond World's End, these mythical lands of the dead, turned out to be nothing more than vast foggy stretches of dark swamplooking water. There weren't even any people. Every now and then an island or a wave rose up to break the monotony, but that was it.

Or so she thought until Barbossa snapped: "Stop lookin at them," to one of the more curious sailors.

The man stopped leaning over the railing. Elizabeth came up to him and whispered, "Looking at what?"

"Them." He pointed down and Elizabeth noticed for the first time that the water was clogged with _bodies, _dead-looking people who floated every which way so thick that it was a wonder the ship made any headway at all.

She gasped and put a hand over her mouth, then couldn't resist taking a closer look. The reason she hadn't noticed them was most of the bodies looked dark and bluish, as though they had marinated too long in some kind of corrosive ink. A few looked more colorful, almost alive even. She could have sworn she saw one move, but decided it must just have been her imagination or the waves.

The fog rolled a little thicker, making the bodies little more than blurs beneath her. Suddenly the vast _boring _seas around her became the biggest, most insurmountable problem Elizabeth had ever seen.

"How do we find him?" she whispered, to herself at first. She whirled around and called, "Captain? How are we going to find Will?"

Barbossa was upon her in an instant, covering her mouth and staring terrified into the sea. After a moment, when nothing happened, he relaxed. "I don't know what wakes them up," he whispered. "But if they were to awaken and notice us..."

"They'll mob us," she whispered back. "Like drowning men pulling each other under... God... that's awful..."

The eerie silence settled back over the ship. Elizabeth asked again, more quietly: "How are we going to find him?"

"I took this off him before I threw him over." Barbossa took out something that Elizabeth just barely recognized.

"Is that the knife his father gave him?"

"Aye. It has meaning to him and it's been doused in blood twenty times over. I can't think of a better object to work Tia Dalma's magic on. I've already done it, and unless that woman's made her first mistake in twenty years…." He threw the knife overboard and it bobbed for a moment, then began moving purposefully off the port side.

Barbossa ordered the crew with gestures to change course and follow it. Elizabeth leaned so far over that she thought she might fall. _Will_, at any moment they would see him. Will...

Fourteen hours later Elizabeth's excitement had died down but she still had not abandoned her post. She signaled to the crew whenever the knife changed direction a bit, and watched the dead bodies, and that was all. Everyone else had had enough of the scenery and was drinking or playing cards, so she was of course the first one to see when the knife came to rest against a facedown corpse...and wormed its way into the corpse's pocket and stayed there.

Elizabeth raised the alarm and would have leaped straight overboard into the bodies if the pirates hadn't held her back. Barbossa had someone lowered over the side of the ship to tie a line to Turner - with strict instructions that he was to touch _no one else _and especially not touch the water itself.

It took a while, but the plan was executed perfectly. Will was brought up on deck and, after surprisingly brief theatrics on Elizabeth's part, he opened his eyes.

She held her breath while he looked around. Blinked. Sat up. And then spoke.

"We're at World's End, I'm dead, and you've come to rescue me?"

Elizabeth tackled him in a hug so fierce it prompted Cotton's parrot to complain, "_Wraak_, save it for the cabin, _wraak_."

They cried into each other's hair and whispered plenty of touching things to each other. When they finally felt satisfactorily reunited, she helped him to his feet and they looked around at the crew, who were still gathered in a speechless circle around the amazing sight of a dead man kissing his fiancée.

Then Will's eyes fell on Barbossa.

"You," he said breathlessly. "You betrayed me. I knew you would! I can't believe I ever came within ten miles of trusting you!"

Barbossa sighed and looked heavenwards. "Must we really discuss this? What do _you _think I should have done?"

"I think I had to be killed, but I should have been _asked_ first," Will hissed at him. "You know I would give my life for Elizabeth – did you really think I would have endangered the ship she's on? You know me better than that." Barbossa didn't look abashed or ashamed or even sorry, and Will lost his temper. "Instead you lied to me. You pretended you were on my side. You tricked me and murdered me like the disgusting _pirate _you are, and I can't imagine why I expected better from you. Your methods are repulsive and you've got no moral character whatsoever – you just turned around and killed a shipmate in cold blood! You warned me once about impugning your honor...but that's ridiculous, isn't it? You've got no honor at all!"

Barbossa waited until the boy was quite finished, then made his answer short and to the point. "Remember how I told you that next time you turned on me I'd scar Elizabeth where it would never heal?" He pointed to her, and they all saw that her tears of joy had turned to quite another kind of crying. "I think you've just saved me the trouble."

He turned and walked off, leaving Will to stare in confusion at his hysterical fiancée. "Elizabeth? What's wrong? What did I-" all of a sudden it hit him. The reason they were even _here _in the first place. Jack. Whom Elizabeth had tricked and murdered in exactly the way he had just been talking about. He went up to her to try to hold her but she shoved him away. "Elizabeth please I didn't mean-"

"Don't, Will," Elizabeth managed. "You're right, but...don't." She rushed off in a haze of tears and climbed the stairs, hoping that the breeze might help clear her head.

She thought everyone would have the decency to leave her alone, until a voice from right next to her said: "You don't have to worry about Jack, he's more like you and me. You won't get any of that from him."

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and looked over at the captain. "Did it ever occur to you that we might deserve it?" she whimpered.

"No," he answered decisively. "You're doing wonderfully and you just ignore that boy if he ever tells you different." Barbossa chuckled. "He's probably just annoyed at me that I shot him. He'll get over it."

"He's right."

Elizabeth and Barbossa both gasped and whirled around. "Didn't no one ever teach you it's not polite to sneak up on people?" the captain snapped, a little embarrassed at having jumped a foot in the air.

"Oh, is that what they tell you in pirate charm school?" Will asked off-handedly. He was much more concerned about Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, listen to me, please. You have to understand I would never say anything to hurt you. I understand why you did what you did with Jack, I really do. I'm just still pretty angry about being _murdered_, that's all. I said things I didn't mean. I'm really sorry I caught you in the crossfire."

She sniffled, already starting to feel better simply because Will was _alive _to apologize in the first place. Barbossa suggested, "This might be one of those times where thinkin before speakin would've been helpful."

"Yes and thanks for helping make this easier for me," Will fumed.

Barbossa smirked at him and Elizabeth's smile came back.

It was only unfortunate that Jack's rescue would not proceed nearly so smoothly.

* * *

TBC.

So, what do you think of this MONSTER chapter? I had to cover a lot of ground to keep us on schedule for Jack, but I've done it! Jack's on deck, people! (I mean "on deck" as in "up next" the way baseball players use it. Not as in "Jack's on the deck of the ship," because he's not yet. But he will be.)

I had Barbossa talk for a bit about how _he_ escaped on his own, but I took it out because the chapter was just too long. Maybe if there's time Elizabeth will ask him later.


	15. Elizabeth swims

To find Jack Sparrow, Barbossa enchanted a bullet - _the _bullet, the one Jack had carried for ten years and then used to commit his first coldblooded murder ever - and followed it for four days. They were sailing deeper and deeper into the murky, corpse-encrusted seas beyond the lands of the living, and the crew was starting to get antsy. What if they couldn't find their way back? What if Jack was located _on _one of these dismal islands they sometimes passed by, what then? Would they be expected to actually get _off _this ship and venture out on foot? And how long more would the food and water last (not long)?

Eventually the bullet bobbed up to one of the islands, where it was too close for the _And Back _to follow. Barbossa frowned but didn't take long to decide.

"We didn't come all this way to go home empty-handed. Lower a boat." Because he could hear the crew making unhappy grumbling noises, he added, "Oh, stow it! I'll go. I'll need just one of you to not be a coward, for a change. Who's coming with me?"

As Barbossa had feared, only Elizabeth and Will stepped forward with anything resembling enthusiasm. He thought it too dicey to choose a dead man as his sole companion rowing through these waters, so he jerked his head in Elizabeth's direction. "You. Let's go."

"Why?" Will demanded. "Why her and not me?"

"Because she doesn't ask stupid questions like _why_," Barbossa sneered. "Now, miss, into the boat. As for the rest of ye, Gibbs is in charge. Unless he turns yellow – then heave him overboard and it's Turner."

Elizabeth obeyed, trying not to look too satisfied with herself. The pirate made to follow her over the railing, but before he swung his second leg over he was stopped by a loud: "Barbossa!"

He made a face, then turned to face the boy's misguided fury. "If anything happens to Elizabeth," Will hissed, voice low and vibrating with uncontrollable emotion, "I swear to you, I will-"

Barbossa grabbed a handful of his shirt and dragged him close. "You're wastin your breath, Mr. Turner," he growled down Will's throat. "If anythin happens to Elizabeth, it means I'm dead already." He shoved Will backwards, gratified to see him go sprawling ass-first onto the deck, then dropped down the rest of the way. He landed crouched down on one knee. A nod to Elizabeth and they shoved off.

Will watched him, hating him intensely for his theatrics. Bad enough to have to compete with Jack Sparrow and all _his _idiocy, but now this? "Show-off," he snarled, watching the graceful sway of Barbossa's feathered hat. "Bloody pirate."

* * *

"_I _have to row?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief, forgetting her resolution not to question his orders.

"Well, we have a choice. I could row now if you prefer. And then, later, when the boat's carrying three of us and we're perhaps pursued by some kind of demon of the deep, _then _it'll be your turn. How about that? Hmm?"

Elizabeth glared at him. "Point taken," she said sullenly. "We'll save you for when we need to move. For now you can just – _mmm _– sit back and – mmph – enjoy the scenery."

"Oh, I will. Now save your breath for the oars. And put your back into it." He generously pretended not to hear her mutinous mumblings.

* * *

They found Jack in a dismal little nook, almost a cave. They rowed right up to him and without really thinking about it Elizabeth reached out to pull him aboard.

She touched the water. Immediately it grew a little choppier and the waves lapped a little more greedily at the boat. As if they somehow knew that it was the only thing between the swamp and two _live _people.

She withdrew her hand and whispered, "Sorry. Let me try that again, I'll be more careful this t- _No!_"

The rippling water had stirred up all the human debris, and Jack shifted a bit so that was no longer within easy reach. He was now beneath someone's dead bloated leg, and Elizabeth decided to act before he got away any further. She plunged her hand into the cold not-quite-water and made a grab for him.

Not only did he slip through her fingers, but touching the water churned it up so badly that Jack disappeared completely and the boat rocked to near a capsize.

"Now what? What do I do?" she squealed in a panic.

"Nothin." Barbossa ripped off his coat and hat. "I didn't want to chance this but now we've got no choice. Elizabeth...if the waters take me..." he paused and she steeled herself not to roll her eyes at whatever courageous Will-like pronouncement was about to leave his mouth. "You had better make an excellent effort to get me back."

"No!" It was out before she could stop herself. She struggled out of her swordbelt and shoes while she explained, "Don't go - it would be safer for me to do it, we already know how the waters react to me. It'll make for messy weather but they won't try to suck me in while I'm alive - and we don't know what would happen to you."

The water was quieting, so Barbossa took a moment to look Elizabeth up and down while he decided. "How well can ye swim?"

"This from a man who made me walk the plank," Elizabeth commented wryly. "I swim well enough." He had already seen enough of her in chemise to last a lifetime, so she saw no reason not to divest herself of her flowing pirate shirt before she jumped. "If I need to swim carrying him I'd rather not be weighed down by that thing as well," she explained.

"Perhaps it would help if you took off the pants, too." Elizabeth glared at him over her shoulder, then bent down to see if she could get a better idea of where Jack had got to underneath all the other bluish corpses.

As she did, though, her hair brushed the water and it started to froth again.

"Go before we lose him!" Barbossa was suddenly right behind her. "Dive!" He put his hands on her hips and fairly threw her over the side. She hit the water head-first, arms held out in front of her the way Jack had shown her, with her eyes squeezed shut.

Once she was under, she kicked blindly down and forwards, approximating the place she expected Jack to be. She tried once to open her eyes, but could see nothing at all in the inky water, so the only way to tell the bodies apart was - shudder - touch.

Soon she was running out of air. She was deep underwater and hadn't found Jack and wasn't even sure she would be able to carry him once she did. Just as she was about to give up and strike for the surface, her fingers brushed up against something small and hard. A string of beads.

Her body was starting to panic, but Elizabeth forced herself to touch a little longer. Hair. The beard. It was Jack.

Only now, when she tried to move him, did Elizabeth realize how very close she was to drowning. She _needed _to breathe. She kicked her legs, holding him tight around the waist as she swam for the surface.

But she couldn't make it. Her lungs were hitching with the need to inhale and finally she lost control and took in a huge gulp of water. She thrashed wildly with the last of her strength, let go of the body she was carrying, and found that her head had cleared the surface just when she thought it was all over.

She gasped in and coughed out once, twice, and a third time. Knowing that Jack could be sinking deeper every second she waited, she took in the best breath she could manage with her burning lungs, shoved an old woman's body out of her way, and went down after him.

The second time she came up, she had Jack with her. He was still totally limp, heavy, and she didn't think she could even drag him the ten or fifteen feet to the boat.

"Help," she wheezed to Barbossa, who was hanging on for dear life as their boat pitched wildly from side to side. "I can't make it."

"Try," he snapped.

Elizabeth tried. But she was still coughing up the murky water and could barely keep herself afloat, much less climb over the bodies with Jack. Her strength had given out and they were sinking again and she choked on another mouthful of water. Her last thought before true panic was: _and he's not coming, I'm going to kill him_...

When she started drowning in earnest, Barbossa finally believed her that it was more than just female nervousness making her call out for help. Well, if that was the case, then so be it. He kicked off his boots and dove in after her.

* * *

Strong hands on her hips and a voice in her ear. "On your back. Quit your coughing. Float." She felt herself guided into position. "Don't bother grabbing them, they'll just sink. I'll be back. _You must not panic. _Just stay here." She concentrated on breathing in and out, slowly, and waited. And waited.

* * *

Elizabeth had seemed able to move around without much trouble, but for Barbossa it was like swimming through a tub of molasses. Brushing up against the poor helpless souls who floated there was bad enough, but every now and again he'd happen to touch one who was _hungry _(like me, the thought struck him before he could remind himself not to think of it) and he could feel them leeching away at the will he needed.

But it was only _fifteen feet _and Jack and Elizabeth needed him and worse, his own bloody _life _was at stake. Again.

They reached the boat and Barbossa heaved Jack up so that he was sprawled partway over the side and out of the water. For now that was the best he could do, and it was enough: after a bit, Jack began to stir. To breathe.

Perhaps because they had drifted or perhaps because the weather had gotten worse, Barbossa could no longer even see the sails of the _And Back _from where he was. That gave him a bad feeling. They really should hurry, so he left Jack where he was and went back for Elizabeth. She was lying on her back, moving her arms gently to stay afloat, her teeth chattering and lips blue. She looked almost like one of the dead herself.

When he grabbed her she screamed, then gasped "Oh it's you! Thank God, I don't know what to do, I have to get out of here, I keep thinking they're grabbing me."

_They probably are. _He threw an arm over her chest and fought a way through the glue, towing her after him. She was heavy and the waves choppier than before, but having a warm live companion made the trip a little better. (Specifically, a warm live companion whose clothing had become completely see-through in the water. Although the surroundings were so unappealing that he could barely appreciate that sort of thing at the moment.)

Embarrassingly enough, the pull of the water was so strong on him that he had to have Elizabeth's help to climb aboard the boat. He could see from her smile that he'd never live it down.

Once the two of them were safely aboard he noticed that Jack had not yet managed to get free of the liquid quicksand either. In fact, his grip on the side of the boat was slipping and he was sliding back down into the water slowly. "Help me," he rasped - his first words out of the grave. While Barbossa wrung out his sleeves nonchalantly and pretended that the heaving of the boat didn't disturb him, Elizabeth hauled Jack aboard on her own – ignoring the blood that was coursing down her bad arm – and threw herself at him to give him a hug.

Jack's arms came up mechanically to hug her back, but he wasn't paying her any attention. His mind was clearing and he was staring over her shoulder with a dozen kinds of disbelief.

"You."

"Aye." Barbossa locked eyes with him for a long moment. And so it was Elizabeth who first noticed…

"The ship! Our ship – it's gone."

* * *

TBC.

Two people mentioned Lord of the Rings and all the bodies. I know I've seen all the LotR movies, more than once apiece, but I can't for the life of me remember where you mean. Remind me.

The next chapter is just about ready and contains the Jack/Barbossa conversation I've been itching to write for weeks. I'm psyched for it. Review for me! And I'll post again probably tomorrow.


	16. Jack doesn't get his apology

A/N: Yes, I definitely remember the LotR thing now. I think I was subconsciously thinking of it the whole time, because it's very like what I picture the waters at World's End to look like. Except I don't think the dead people have candles, I think of them as kind of cloggy debris. Like a pool filter at camp that's completely full of bugs.

This is the **second update **this weekend. So if you haven't checked for updates in a while, make sure you didn't miss one.

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As soon as Barbossa and Elizabeth had rowed out of sight, Will had gone below to sulk. So it was a while before he noticed that instead of floating at anchor, the _And Back _had started to move again.

The moment he realized what was happening, Will rushed up on deck. The seas were much choppier than they had been earlier, and the island where Barbossa and Elizabeth had gone was already out of sight. Will ran up to Gibbs and grabbed him by the collar. "What in the hell is going on?"

"Well you see, young William, the weather got bad very mysteriously and we – that is, the crew, all of them and me as well – began to worry that it were not perhaps so healthy for us to remain in these waters any longer. So we've started to make way, heading back the way we-"

"We can't leave them. Can _you _sail us safely home? I know I can't. Much as I don't like Barbossa, we need him. Not to mention Jack, who's the reason we're here in the first place. Hey, you!" he called to the man at the helm. "Bring her around, we're going back!"

Ignored.

So Will acted fast. He jumped up on a crate and tried to persuade the crew and then to threaten them. When that failed, he climbed to the helm, grabbed the pirate who was steering, and without a word dumped him over the railing into the waters of the dead. Gibbs took exception to that: "Now Will, you can't just go around-"

So Will bashed him to sleep with the hilt of his sword, then turned to face the dumbstruck crew. "Captain says I'm in charge if Mr. Gibbs were to become… indisposed. He's indisposed now, isn't he? So…"

At first he thought the pirates were prepared to listen, but then Will heard the _whoosh _of a sword coming out of its scabbard behind him. For a moment he considered the possibility of trying to disarm the attacker, but then decided not to take any chances. He spun around, weapon drawn, and slashed not at the sword but at the hand that held it.

While the pirate ran around clutching his injured hand and trying to stop the blood fountaining out, Will firmed up his control. "Does anyone else care to question my orders?" After a moment, he put his sword away. "I thought not. Now, we'll return later for the man I threw overboard, but first we need our captain. _Which way_?"

But there were only two people who knew exactly which way they had come from: one who was overboard and the other who was unconscious. Will thought for a moment. "The monkey," he said. "It watches Barbossa like I watch Elizabeth. Let's ask the bloody monkey."

With Cotton using his mysterious skills to interpret, they explained to Jack the monkey who they were looking for. Sure enough, Jack climbed up to the wheel, sat on it, and pointed out the direction to take. He seemed pretty sure of himself, so Will decided to trust him. "All right. Bring her around, and…and follow the monkey." He was glad to see that the pirates were obeying his orders without murmur now, even orders as bizarre as _follow the monkey_. He picked up Barbossa's spyglass and slapped it against his hand with authority, and wished he had thought to wear a fancier hat.

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_Our ship – it's gone. _Barbossa whipped around. "No!"

Jack winced. "Bugger."

"Come on, we've probably just…drifted," Elizabeth ventured. "Get the oars, the both of you. Let's get out of here, I don't want to think what happens if we sink."

"Yes, _ma'am_," Jack muttered like a cheeky schoolboy. He took the oars and started to row in the direction she pointed. "I repeat," he said to Barbossa after a moment. "You."

"And _I _repeat: aye."

Jack looked him up and down slowly and squinted in the sunless gloom. "You're alive?"

"One hundred eighty-nine days and counting," Barbossa said proudly. "No thanks to ye."

Jack stopped rowing and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "You came for me."

His face was open as Elizabeth had never seen it before. She looked away, feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment, and wished they could wait to have this talk until she had gone away. She preferred her Jack Sparrow self-assured and enigmatic, not quiet and serious and (gasp) practically vulnerable.

"Yes, I came for you," Barbossa snapped, impatient as ever. "Now, we have to find our-"

"Even after I shot you, eh? I've been meaning to apologize for that." Jack was coming back to himself a little more. He flashed an excellent imitation of smile, but couldn't press that last hint of entreaty out of his voice. "You know I had no choice. You picked the right leverage, mate."

The opportunity to gloat of course took precedence over wondering what had happened to the _And Back_. "I know. One more second and the boy would've done whatever I told him."

Jack shook his head with a smile. "I wouldn't have let him. You'd have had to shoot Elizabeth."

"Better her than me."

"Apparently I disagreed." Jack crawled forwards – ignoring the fact that he was almost tipping the boat by piling all the weight onto one end – and put his hands on Barbossa's shoulders. "I mean it. I'm so sorry."

Barbossa waited until Jack had moved away before answering. "It be a real shame, though," he said. "We could have had a deal. A real profitable one."

"We still _can _have a deal," Jack answered immediately. "In fact I hereby promise that in future I'll _always_ attempt to deal with you before shooting. D'you care to make me the same promise?"

Elizabeth reached for the oars and pressed them into Jack's hands. "Row, idiot." He appeared not to have heard her, although he did start rowing.

Barbossa made a face. "So I'm supposed to just forget about your killin me, is that it?

"The way I'm supposed to just forget about the mutiny? Yes." An edge had crept into Jack's voice.

"The mutiny," Barbossa echoed. "Don't tell me a clever little boy like you still hasn't figured that one out."

"I know you saved me life, mate, and I am properly grateful," Jack assured him sarcastically, putting down the oars again. Elizabeth growled, picked them up, and handed them to Barbossa instead. He, too, started rowing without really paying attention. Jack continued: "I just have to wonder though: why is it that you sailed around for _ten years _in my ship that I sold my soul for, and never once tried to help me or even come say hello, eh? You knew I was still alive."

"Aye, I knew, but I was a mite distracted." Barbossa's voice had acquired a touch of defensiveness. "Ye will recall a certain stone chest..."

Jack seemed on the verge of swallowing this explanation, and Elizabeth couldn't keep silent any longer. "You can't believe that!" Both pirates turned to look at her in surprise. "Jack, he led a _mutiny _against you, you were left to _die_! He betrayed you, have you forgotten? And you're just going to-"

"Oh, look – it's our ship!" Jack exclaimed brightly, pointing at sails in the distance. The three of them sat in silence for a while – Barbossa glaring at Elizabeth, Elizabeth shaking her head reproachfully at Jack, and Jack watching Barbossa with a thoughtful frown on his face.

They didn't speak again until the ship was nearly upon them and someone had thrown a rope for them to climb up.

"I think the mutiny was well under way before Barbossa got involved, love," Jack said as he helped her out of the boat.

"It was join them or join _him_," Barbossa agreed. "I fixed it so no one killed him – what more d'you want?"

She was halfway up the side of the ship, but turned around to call down: "I _want _you to stand up for your friends, that's what I want!"

"And that would have gotten both of us killed!" Barbossa shouted up after her, starting to climb himself. "As I recall, you explained to Will Turner that it's all right for a father to take a whip to his own son if that's the only way to protect him. Yes, or no?"

She had reached the top, but leaned back down to hiss at him: "Will's father _made a sacrifice _that cost him his son's respect and very likely his peace of mind as well, and _you_, on the other hand, took control of a ship you wanted in the first place and spent _ten years_ raiding and pillaging to your black heart's content! How dare you compare yourself to Will's poor father! And Jack…" she gave him her parting words before he had even reached the deck. "I'm surprised you're buying it. I'm going below."

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Barbossa stood staring after Elizabeth, trying his best to feel angry at her. He was interrupted by a soft _tsk _over his shoulder.

"Oh, you've gone and disappointed her now," Jack informed him. "Shame on you."

"Shut up," Barbossa spat.

Jack heard the venom in his voice and grinned. "Hurts, doesn't it?" When the only reply he got was a glare that could have boiled water, he continued knowingly, "It'll be a while before she forgives you. You'd better get used to feeling ashamed."

"Well, what does she want from me?" Barbossa exploded, slapping his hand down hard on the railing.

There was a long silence and then Jack suggested delicately, "Maybe she needs you to apologize."

Barbossa turned to face him and let another long moment go by. "Maybe _she _should just tell me what _she _wants, instead of talkin through other people."

Jack winced. He opened his mouth and closed it again, several times, not really sure how to proceed. Finally he just smiled sheepishly and said, "It hurt."

A sarcastic retort – _yes well that's what happens when your friends turn on you and leave you to die _–sprung to the tip of Barbossa's tongue, but he resisted. He knew that he had failed miserably at meeting in the middle – Jack had come so far and all that remained was to take that one step and say...

But he couldn't. Not in front of everybody, the whole crew and especially bloody Will Turner. He looked at Jack helplessly and sighed. "I know."

Jack's smile was sad. "That's the best you can do, eh?"

Barbossa nodded.

"Well, if you'd rather keep on feeling guilty about it, that's just none of my business, is it. All that remains is the thousand-pound question: can I trust you, or will you do it again?"

"I sailed past the ends of the world for ye, Jack Sparrow."

"We all did," interrupted Will. He judged it time to break up the reunion, so he stepped up and shook hands with Jack. "Glad to see you again, mate," he said, meaning it, then turned to Barbossa. "If you're wondering where we went and why we're short one or two people…"

"One or two?"

"More like one and a half," Will clarified. "I threw a man overboard and one's downstairs missing most of his fingers."

"Well, somebody's a fast learner!" Jack observed. "That's the way to keep order aboard a pirate ship and no mistake."

Barbossa squinted at him. "What happened?"

"One might almost call it a bit of a mutiny. I'm sorry I couldn't shut it down more peacefully…"

"You're here, aren't you? With the rest of the crew intact? Then you did fi- Jack?"

Jack had gone up to the boy and was stroking him under the jaw. When he realized what it looked like he withdrew right away and said, "Oh no no, not like that. It's just he's got quite a…" he sketched a line across his neck.

"Oh, the scar." Will tilted his head back to give him a better look at the thin white line, then shifted his shirt out of the way to show Jack the bullet hole. "_He_ did that."

Barbossa rolled his eyes and jerked his collar down to reveal his own scar, a large black gangrenous-looking mass.

So Jack pulled his shirt up from his waist, exposing a web of lines that suggested the Kraken had in fact torn him into many pieces. They all looked at each other for a moment and then Jack held his hand out. "The three of us seem to be rather lucky men, eh? I'll drink to that."

Barbossa handed over his flask with a chuckle. "You'll drink to anything."

"So," Jack said to Barbossa after a few long sips, "Now what? I accept your apology that you didn't give me, and I thank you very much for coming to rescue me. What now?"

"I suppose," Will broke in, "That I also accept the apology you didn't give me, and while I'm sure it was Elizabeth's idea and not yours, I also thank you for coming after me."

At first it seemed that Barbossa was ignoring him. "Don't be too hasty with the thanks, Jack. The danger's not over yet – I predict we're going to have a great streak of trouble trying to re-enter the world of the living." But then he turned to Will and grinned. "Cut off someone's hand, did you? Seems there's hope for you yet."

Will took it as a good sign that he hadn't been called _boy_, and decided to quit while he was ahead.

They watched him go. "I'm serious about the trouble, Jack."

Jack looked concerned for maybe two seconds. "Between the two of us, I think we can handle any sorts of trouble that may arise. Friends?" he asked, holding out his hand boldly. "At least…for now?"

Barbossa beamed at him and shook on it. "Aye. Friends."

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TBC.

Next chapter will be fun because it's got Davy Jones in it. I have a hard time writing his voice but I like him anyhow.


	17. Davy Jones names his terms

Elizabeth knew that coming back to life was probably a draining experience, but eventually she couldn't wait any longer to corner Jack for a heart-to-heart. After he had slept for twelve hours straight, she went and banged on the cabin door. "Jack? Are you up yet? I want to talk."

He answered the door looking rumpled and sleepy. When he saw who it was, he held out his arms to her with a smile. "'Ello, Judas, give us a hug!"

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Jack," she whispered. "Jack I-" But tears were choking off all her words and she couldn't get any further.

"Don't get me wrong, love," he explained a little more gently, "I have no real problem with what you did. But why the kiss? It would have been easier - on the both of us - without it."

She didn't think she was quite ready to accept a hug yet, so she waited until he had lowered his hands before stepping closer. She finally brought herself to touch him, one shaking hand to his collar, and said, "I'm never going to forgive myself."

Jack looked down at her, serious. "Shhh. Lizzie. Nothing to forgive."

"I'm a coward. I sacrificed you - my friend, who risked your life for me, more than once - I sacrificed you for myself. To survive. It's disgusting, Jack. I am disg-" Her breath hitched so hard she couldn't finish the word.

"Shhh," Jack soothed again. "You did the right thing, but... Elizabeth, look at me... come on, I'm up here... 'at a girl. Elizabeth, you made the right decision. But - yes, there's a _but_." He put his hand under her chin to prevent her looking away. "I'm just a teensy bit, you know, disappointed, that's all. Because I thought you knew I had already decided to stay behind. I thought you were giving me a goodbye kiss in appreciation for me noble sacrifice." He laughed a little. "And then it turned out that after all that talk about being a good man…you still didn't trust me."

He was going to stay on his own? Even without the handcuffs? In that case it wouldn't have been her fault. "Jack...if only I could believe you."

"Do you really think that Will Turner with his terminal case of honesty could have left me there if I'd shouted for help? I was quiet on purpose, love. I meant to stay. I'm telling the truth."

"Jack - honestly?"

Jack had not expected to feel so wonderful for being able to lift that weight from her. "Yeah," he breathed, making perfect eye contact, willing her to believe. "Honestly."

"Oh, Jack, _Jack_..." she threw her arms around him and hung on, listening to his heartbeat. After a bit he extricated himself self-consciously.

"All right, all right," he said gruffly. "Enough o'that. Last thing I need to see today's the wrong end of Will Turner's sword, and that's where you're heading me. All right, let _go."_

He pried her off and she fled, still fighting tears.

A nasty laugh sounded from behind him. "Nothing funny about that talk, Barbossa," Jack said wearily.

"Oh, no?" Barbossa emerged from the cabin, sour after a night spent poring over charts while Jack snored contentedly. "Jack Sparrow, you lie like other men breathe. So you were going to stay behind of your own free will, eh? Selflessly give your life to the monster?"

Jack broke into a grin and turned around. "Well, I _was _considering it," he defended. "Off and on."

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The trip out was actually less messy than the trip in. It helped that for the hours when their real captain caught up on some much-needed sleep, they were commanded by Jack, who was an exceedingly creative problem-solver and able to rally the crew in ways that even Barbossa was not.

Instead of feeding people to the doggy-headed monster, Jack fed it Jack the monkey. Instead of trying to steer normally using a compass and the wind and the rudder, Jack devised a system whereby he stood at the bow and shouted "Good" or "Bad," and the crew either continued what they were doing or reversed it. It was strange to turn the wheel one way and have the ship go another, but it was working. Soon, the Gates loomed.

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"Elizabeth, what's the matter? We're almost out of here. Cheer up." Will plopped down next to her and watched the clouds. The weather was beautiful and Elizabeth was on a ship with all her favorite pirates, and yet she seemed unhappy.

"I told you, we stirred up the water," she reminded him sharply. She had already told the story of Jack's botched rescue at least three or four times. "Barbossa thinks it extremely likely that the wrong people will take notice of our passing."

"The wrong people," Will repeated. "He thinks Davy Jones?"

"I don't know what he thinks. How would I know - he never talks to me anymore!" There - she'd said it.

Will tried hard to look sympathetic, but his amusement showed on his face despite his very best efforts. Elizabeth decided that if he was already making fun of her, then she might as well continue. "Nobody pays me any attention! I could bleed to death for all they would notice. I don't even get to eat in the cabin anymore - Jack's always in there telling some story that would _probably _be funny, if only I were allowed to listen! He follows the captain around like a lovesick puppy..."

Will laughed. "Yes and Barbossa treats him like one. They're adorable, in a way. Although I might like them better if they would both stop trying to get me killed."

A voice from behind them: "If I were tryin to get you killed, boy, you'd be dead a hundred times over."

Elizabeth and Will jumped to their feet. "Sorry?" Will hazarded.

"I'm not." Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Why don't you tell me when you predict giving me the time of day again."

Barbossa and Jack had not, in fact, been in the cabin telling stories. They had been strategizing, bouncing implausible ideas off one another and trying to reassure each other that the voyage home would work out. It was a largely depressing and stressful project, and Elizabeth hassling them for it was the last thing Barbossa needed.

But before the captain could snap at her, Jack deflected his temper by doing something stupid. "_I _could give you plenty more than the time of day, love," Jack offered. "But I don't think young William here would-"

"Jack, if you can't be serious, get below!" Barbossa bellowed. "_He _is coming for us - probably soon! We have to be prepared."

Jack reflexively checked his palm, but it was clean.

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Warning or not, there was no way to be "prepared" for the arrival of the _Dutchman_. When it erupted from the sea to block their path, Barbossa ordered an anchor dropped just in time to avoid a collision.

Barbossa stepped to the rail with a frown. If there was anything worse than morbid, brooding Davy Jones, it was Davy Jones feeling frisky and reckless. Jones made the first overture. "Well, well! Greetings, Captain. Can't say I expected to see you this side of the divide again. You're quite the traveler."

"Thank ye, Davy Jones. Now, may I have your permission to sail my ship back into the lands of the living?"

"Well that depends on who you've brought with you, now, doesn't it?"

"This might require a bit o'discussion," Barbossa suggested. "Will ye care to come aboard?" He held out his spyglass invitingly. At a gesture from Jones he opened it, and within seconds the _Dutchman_'s captain had crossed over.

Jones noticed that the crew was grouped in a terrified huddle at the far end of the ship. "Quite a brave bunch of followers you've got there."

Barbossa shrugged and went for it. "I've found that when I try to lead men to their deaths, it's the ones with spine who cause me the most problems. Now. We're bringing home Jack Sparrow and Will Turner – and we're prepared to make you a handsome offer if you let us through."

"J-" Jones took a staggering step backwards. "Now, I don't believe I heard you properly."

"I believe you did." Terrified though he was, Barbossa kept his tone firm and knowing.

"Then let's hear what kind of _offer _you think could make up for the life of _Jack Sparrow_." He spat the name with a hatred that made Barbossa wince almost visibly.

"First, these be our demands. We're takin Jack and also Will Turner with us. You'll release Turner's father from the vows he made you. And most importantly…you'll raise us the _Pearl _again. This time, with no strings attached for Jack's soul or mine."

After a moment of silence, Jones answered: "That is an impressive list of terms, Captain. Now, might I ask again what you have to offer me in exchange?"

"Nothing, yet – that's why we need the _Pearl_. If you get us our ship back, the first thing we'll do with her is go after the heart they stole from you. I know all about where it is and how it's guarded."

There was a long silence. "You've had dealings with this man? This _Beckett_, who keeps it now?"

"Dealings, mate?" Jack approached them. "You have no idea."

"He's said he'll destroy me if anyone interferes with him – and I believe it." Jones _plurrp_ed thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's what you're after? It wouldn't be hard to frighten him into stabbing the heart for you."

"Ridiculous," Barbossa dismissed. "So long as you've got Turner's father, he'll never participate in a plan that endangers your ship. If Turner doesn't participate, neither will Elizabeth. I need her for my plan. And Jack doesn't know where the heart is without me. So as long as you've got a hold over Will Turner, you can count on this whole ship." When pressed, he could lie almost as well as Jack.

Jones considered. "And if ye fail?"

"Then the punishment is yours to decide."

Jones spelled out what he wanted after barely a moment's thought. "Death to Sparrow," he began. "And for you, Barbossa, I'll raise up a certain stone chest with which I believe you are intimately familiar. You can spend eternity thinking of what you've lost. Bootstrap Bill goes back where I found him. The rest of ye will serve on my crew forever – except, of course, for…the _lady_."

He crossed the ship to where the crew stood huddled in terror and they all melted away, leaving Elizabeth standing alone. Jones reached out to her with his regular hand, but it had shrimp scuttling across it and she drew back with a disgusted gasp. "You, girl, will be in hell without the love of your man." Of course she couldn't tell, but he was paying her a high complement and offering her a real favor. "So I'll help you: your heart will sit in a chest beside mine, and you'll live forever at my side, closest companions, heartless, the both of us, until the end of time."

He seemed to be quite taken with the idea, so Barbossa was quick to remind him: "That's only if we fail, remember. Now, Davy Jones, do we have a deal or not?"

Jones took one last look at Elizabeth, then turned his attention to Barbossa. His pincher shot out, grabbed a generous section of the pirate's arm, and tore it open. "All right, we have a deal. And we'll sign in blood – yours!"

Barbossa heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes at the childish gesture. He rolled up his sleeve and carelessly dabbed up a handful of blood. He grabbed Jones's claw back and scrawled his name on it. "Happy?"

Although he was annoyed that he hadn't managed to intimidate this impossible old pirate, Jones drew himself up and snapped, "Quite." He looked out over the sea and with a gesture stirred up the waves. "Now, you said you wanted the _Pearl_?"

The crew saw her beloved black sails on the horizon within minutes. "My men have already made some repairs," Jones warned. "I didn't think she'd be sailing above the water again."

When she got close they could see that she sported great patches of the marine muck that graced the _Dutchman. _The crew would have a devil of a time getting it off, but Barbossa was confident they would manage. With Jack Sparrow egging them on, there was nothing people wouldn't do for that ship.

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The was one more teeny little wrinkle that took place before the _Black Pearl _was fully in their possession. "I warn you all to be careful," Jones said, "Because I swear to you now: for _no reason_ will I _ever again _allow any of you to cross back into the land of the living. The next time you float in those seas, you are never coming out."

"If that's so then we too have one more condition," Barbossa answered right away. "Once we get your heart back for you, we are quits. Ye will _not _send the Kraken after us. Ye will _not _persecute us in any way."

"Aye," Jones agreed. "Last time pays for all, Barbossa. I need that heart. All of us – even bloody Jack Sparrow – are quits once I have it. Oh…and there's one more thing."

"What?"

"I'm afraid I don't trust you…So one of you will stay on the _Flying_ _Dutchman _with me until the heart is safe in my hand."

Will resisted his urge to step towards Elizabeth, and just looked at Barbossa expectantly to see how he handled it.

Jack's eyes, too, shot to Barbossa. "Well obviously-" he said.

"Not safe," Barbossa agreed, "I know. Someone with a head on their shoulders might…"

Jack only winced.

"I don't blame you," Barbossa sighed. "Well. It would be a risk but I think…"

"But that's all we have to…"

Barbossa looked away. "Oh, all _right_," he said irritably. "You're right. Fine."

"You have my word if it helps. I'm sorry, mate." Jack really did look sorry.

Elizabeth and Will were staring incredulously. "What was _that _all about?" Elizabeth demanded.

Barbossa did not look very happy. "He needs a hostage, and it'll be me. You people had _better_-"

But Davy Jones clumped on over to them. "Ah, no it won't." He pointed with his claw. "I want her."

"Fine," Elizabeth said immediately.

Jack turned on an insincere smile. "Would you excuse us?" He dragged Elizabeth off to the side. "You might be in over your head a bit, love. I'm not sure it's wise to send you off to face Davy Jones with naught but the force of your…er…personality." He forced his eyes up from her chest to look her in the face.

"I have great faith in the power of my _personality, _Jack." Elizabeth glanced over at Jones. "I know the stories. I'll be able to handle him. The question is: without me, can you handle Will? And more importantly, what about Norrington and Beckett?"

"Nobody needs to _handle_ me," Will said icily. He and Barbossa had decided not to be left out of the planning. "I'm just concerned that Jones won't start handling _you_, that's all."

She shrugged. "I'm sure he's thinking of the same thing. That's the whole idea, isn't it? I didn't go to charm school for nothing." She glanced towards Barbossa and added, "I've managed _him_, haven't I?"

"You'll want to be careful, miss," Barbossa warned. "You may have found a soft spot in a pirate who's _said _to be heartless…. But Davy Jones, he really _is_."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" She arched her eyebrows at him. "You've accused me of tormenting you nearly every day, Captain. Tell me... is it really your _heart _where you feel the ache?"

Will made a sort of scandalized gasping noise but they all ignored him. "I don't need him to fall in love with me," Elizabeth reminded them, "I just need to fascinate him enough that he prefers me to live rather than die. I can't imagine it will be difficult."

Although amused (and convinced), Barbossa felt he had to get back some of his own. He told the others, "I agree - we should send her," and then looked Elizabeth in the eye and asked in a voice dripping with syrupy innocence, "But perhaps she'd like to kiss me goodbye before she goes?"

Elizabeth tried with all her might to keep a straight face when he tapped himself on the cheek, but she didn't even come close. Fortunately, she was rescued from her blushing and stammering when Jack (of all people) insisted that they get down to business.

"It's settled then," he said decisively. "Don't worry about Norrington - I doubt he's feeling plucky enough these days to cause us a problem. And as for Beckett…" Jack's face lit up with a malice that looked awful on him. "I certainly won't have a problem taking care of _him_."

Elizabeth nodded and stepped back. "Then just let me say goodbye to him."

"Who, Beckett?"

She rolled her eyes and reached out for Will. "It's going to be fine," she assured him with authority. "If you bring the heart – and I know you _will – _I think Jones will play straight with us."

"You _think_," Will echoed unhappily. He sighed. "I know it's the only way. I don't like it, but... but I have faith in you. And you won't be alone – find my father. You'll recognize him by-"

"I'll recognize him by asking whether or not his name is Bootstrap Bill," she laughed, projecting a confidence she did not really feel. "Don't worry about me."

She took a step towards the fearsome squid-man, only to be stopped by a bloody arm around her waist. "Just one second there if you please." It was Barbossa. He dragged Elizabeth back a pace and stepped in front of her. "Before we hand over this pretty little thing to which we have all become attached, we need to be clear on a few points. She will not be killed. She will not be worked as a part of your crew."

"Agreed," Jones answered promptly.

"She will not be starved nor beaten. Ye will not lock her up unless it becomes necessary."

"Agreed."

"And finally," Barbossa said calmly, "She will not be _mistreated _by you or by any of the crew."

The tentacles writhed. "Understood, and agreed." He held out his hand and Barbossa shook it. "You will have excellent weather. Go on and bring me that heart...and the heads of those two men who helped take it from me."

He beckoned for Elizabeth to follow him and she did. Because she knew everyone was watching her, she kept her head high and did not look back.

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TBC. I couldn't resist giving Elizabeth a chance to butt heads with Davy Jones. I still can't decide whether he's a meanspirited asshole, or just a jaded guy who really thinks he does people a favor. I guess we'll see once Elizabeth is alone with him.


	18. Elizabeth tells a story

"Don't think you're getting the captain's cabin back," Barbossa warned Jack as his first step aboard the _Pearl _took him in that direction. Then, realizing that the crew had sensed a power struggle coming and were all surreptitiously watching, he laughed it off. "Elizabeth's already laid claim to it."

"Well, I've no objection to sharing," Jack offered.

At the mention of Elizabeth's name, Will crossed his arms - entirely missing the subtext of the conversation. "Share with _him_, then. Because if and when Elizabeth comes back on this ship, she's staying with me and nobody else, regardless of how many bullet wounds she has."

Jack would have liked to take the distraction and run with it, but he knew the problem had to be addressed from the beginning. "Like I said," he repeated after a beat of silence, "I have no objection to sharing the _cabin_. But that brings us to the next question..."

"No," Barbossa's head snapped back. "Absolutely not. You have no right and I won't step aside."

"No?"

"_No_," he repeated, then continued smoothly: "I'm sure you're familiar with it, it's the word used to deny or negate an unacceptable proposal. Otherwise known as: the opposite of yes, certainly not, hah, or _I refuse_."

"But you owe me, and-"

"-And I want us to get home alive," Barbossa said over him. "Therefore it'll be me who leads us, and not you. Period. That's non-negotiable."

"Pish-posh, mate, everything's negotiable." Jack narrowed his eyes. "How about this, then: we'll share."

"Share?" Barbossa asked incredulously. "You can't _share _command of a ship! It's not doable."

"Not _usual,_ you mean," Jack corrected. "I think we can manage."

Barbossa understood that as a matter of face if nothing else, Jack could not let himself be seen taking orders on this ship. Still, his proposal was ridiculous at best, and Barbossa was not looking forward to the headaches that came with a crew beginning to have doubts. Hmmm.

He popped his knife from its sheath and examined his reflection in the blade. "Perhaps we can. But Jack Sparrow, if I ever hear of you questionin, contradictin, or otherwise hamperin my orders in any way, I'll see to it that it's the last order you ever give anybody." He glanced up to make fierce eye contact.

"Likewise," Jack growled back. "I'll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine, savvy?"

Barbossa nodded and raised his voice. "Gents, you'll show Captain Sparrow the same respect you show me," he instructed. "And no stupid questions - we've got enough problems without them."

Jack brought his hands together and made his queer little bow. _Thank you_, he mouthed.

Barbossa drew a finger across his throat. _You're dead, Jack_, he mouthed back.

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But as it turned out, Jack and Barbossa stayed mostly out of each other's hair because Jack appeared to have no interest at all in giving useful commands relating to the running of the ship. Without them bickering, the ship was much too quiet and Elizabeth's absence much too noticeable. She hadn't even been gone twenty-four hours before Will broke down and went hunting for reassurance from the one source he would believe.

Captain Barbossa was on deck, bathing his festering forearm in a bucket of seawater. Will took maybe twenty seconds to get his nerve up to approach... and missed his chance.

Jack appeared out of nowhere, on his worst behavior, clearly determined to never again be mistaken for a lovesick puppy.

_"Euwgh_." He produced several ridiculous gestures and expressions, then declared, "That's got _infection _written all over it."

"Why thank ye, Jack, I hadn't noticed."

"You're welcome. Have you considered cleaning it out with rum?"

Barbossa's control over his temper began to fray. "Yes – I've _considered _it. But I can't do it, because the rum is gone, because you drank it all!"

"Ah. Yes. I'd forgotten that. Let's see." Jack pretended to think. "I know! We could always-"

But he never got to finish whatever absurd suggestion he had in mind. "Here - Gibbs had some." Will stepped up and tossed Barbossa a flask, shooting Jack a dirty look.

Jack gave him a loopy smile and sauntered off to do something useless.

"Let me do that." Will sat down without waiting for Barbossa's permission, and started to pick out strands of Davy Jones's slime with his bare hands. He fished for something to say in the uncomfortable silence. "I mean, I might as well, with Elizabeth not here to and all."

"I have to say the implications of that logic are profoundly disturbing, Mr. Turner."

But Will was much more disturbed by the sight and smell of the captain's injury. "Do you think this is going to be all right?" he asked, prying up another tendril of mucous.

Barbossa sounded insulted. "You think I would have sent her if I didn't?"

"What?- Oh. Elizabeth. No, I was talking about _you_. Believe it or not," Will informed him, "I am actually capable of thoughts that do not involve my fiancée's welfare."

"Who'd have guessed. I think this will close up all right once the ooze is out. It already feels a little b-" _hiss _"--better."

"Ah, sorry."

"It's fine, keep going." Once Will had poured rum over the wound and wrapped it, Barbossa stood up and flexed his fingers experimentally. "Fine," he pronounced. "And you know, I don't even mind it. It's funny, the things you'll miss when you can't have them. Even pain."

Will didn't even mark the momentous occasion of Barbossa's first conversational remark to him ever. He was too busy thinking through what that might mean if...

"What sort of behavior do you predict from Davy Jones? I mean, Elizabeth might be the first woman he's known since-"

"I knew it wouldn't be long til we got back to your favorite subject," Barbossa sneered. "And here I almost thought you capable of talkin like an ordinary person. That'll teach me."

"And here I almost thought _you _capable of saying thankyou," Will fired back. "Or at least being polite for a change. That'll teach _me_, I guess."

He was hoping to have the last word, but Barbossa would have none of it. He stepped up and touched the scar on Will's neck. "Boy, if _that _didn't teach you, nothing will."

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Elizabeth meant to go looking for Will's father on her very first night aboard, but before she got time to go exploring, Davy Jones called her into his lair.

The door slammed behind her all by itself, trapping her inside. With him.

"You," Jones began, clumping towards her slowly on his peg leg, "Are very lucky your friend Barbossa thought to lay down some conditions before I took you. You can't even imagine what would have happened to you otherwise."

He watched her face, greedy for something. But Elizabeth had already given this man a great deal of thought. All she knew of him (besides his unfortunate romantic history) was that he was addicted to a bluffing game he never lost, and to forcing hard choices on desperate people.

In other words, she had concluded, he was a bully. So in order to keep him off balance, she shouldn't show him fear.

"Well fortunately I have clever friends to speak out on my behalf," she answered coolly.

He snorted. "I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, if I were you."

Elizabeth tilted her head and put an edge on her voice. "Might I ask what I've done to make an enemy of you?"

"As if that matters!" When Jones laughed his shoulders shook a little, producing wet squelching noises from his beard. "Surely someone's told you there's no use pleading with me - there's nothing to appeal to. I have no heart. So I'm the cruelest, most determined enemy you'll ever have."

"Doesn't follow," Elizabeth answered at once. "Rocks and trees have no hearts either, and _they're _not cruel." She stared at him with as much challenge as she could muster.

His tentacles began to fidget. "You've quite a mouth on you, Elizabeth," he said, his voice becoming softer and a little more dangerous. There was a long pause during which Elizabeth wondered if she'd pushed too hard. "We might as well make good use of it. You're here, I'm not going to throw you to the dogs – I mean, _crew _– so…amuse me."

He gestured for her to sit down and she took a seat by the organ. "To be honest I'd prefer 'Miss Swann' until I know you a little better, if that's all right," she said stiffly, then shifted gears to see what response civilty would get. "_Oh_...this really is a beautiful instrument. Perhaps you'll play it for me later?"

He put his good hand on his hip and clicked his claw. "Perhaps. Now, _Miss Swann_: tell me a story."

Elizabeth pursed her lips thoughtfully. "What kind of story?"

"One I'll like." He glared at her. "And I had _better _like it!"

So far, Elizabeth was feeling pretty good. It seemed that in a conversation on a level playing field - with no leverage on either side - she and the dreaded Davy Jones were fairly matched. She might not be able to charm him as well as she was hoping, but she would not be pushed around, either. So long as he never got the opportunity to offer her one of his devil's bargains, nor got power over someone she cared about, she thought she could handle him.

Elizabeth suddenly had a wonderful idea. She didn't expect to lose any sleep over the demise of Lord Beckett, but Norrington was a friend who had had a lot of very rough luck. Even taking into account the role he had played in Jack's death, she felt more pity than anger towards him now, and was not happy that Captain Squid here had asked for his head. Perhaps she could get him to rescind the order, if she told the Commodore's story well enough.

"I don't know what you'll _like_," she started tentatively, "But I certainly have a story you'll understand." She took a deep breath.

"Once upon a time there was a man." She watched him closely but the deformed face was very hard to read. "He was engaged to a woman he thought he loved. Was it true love? Hard to say."

Using the truth as a very vague outline, Elizabeth carefully crafted a story where the woman, owing her life to another man, convinced her noble fiancé to help her save him when he was in danger. In the end the woman unexpectedly ran off with this other person, leaving the fiancé bitter. "He lost his whole life," she said with real sadness in her voice. "He became absolutely obsessed with hunting this wife-thief, this…well, pirate… and chased him across the seven seas. He pursued him into a hurricane, and had the lives of all his men on his conscience when they sank. He lost _everything_ – including his love for her and even his honor. You of all people know what lengths people can be pushed to when they're desperate enough." She took a deep breath, not sure whether or not she had hooked Jones in sufficiently to drop the bomb. She compromised. "In the end he did something terrible, in an effort to regain part of what he had lost. He has betrayed everything he held dear, has been abandoned by the people who used to care about him, and will live out his life cold and alone. Not a very happy story, is it?"

Jones was sitting very still and erect, hands on his knees. "And this…_woman_… did she feel nothing for what she had done?"

"She didn't know until it was too late," Elizabeth whispered, surprised to notice tears beginning to close her throat. Tears? But it wasn't even a true story, for heaven's sake, she'd made herself into a hussy and rolled Jack and Will into one character! "And when she saw him again, he was not the man she remembered. He had done something awful and she couldn't forgive him for it."

"Is that so." His voice had gone cold and she suddenly knew he had recognized the tale as an autobiography. "And what, if you please, was so _awful _as to lose him the respect of even a woman vile enough to break vows that should've lasted until the end of time? Hmmm?"

Still not certain if she had pulled it off, Elizabeth played for time: "Why do you care?"

"Because I wonder: what goes on in the head of a woman? In her heart, if she has one? I must say I sympathize with your friend - he's a brother to me. So tell me, _Miss Swann_... just how far did you judge too far for even a desperate person to go?"

She went for it. "To buy back some of his reputation, his honor in other people's eyes," she explained carefully, "he stole _his brother's heart_ and handed it over to the King."

Elizabeth braced for his eruption.

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TBC.

I know I haven't been giving Jack his fair share of coverage. He's just a little worn out from being dead, that's all. He'll be back in his groove in no time!

Much thanks to everybody who's reviewed. I really appreciate the comments! (Especially the one which mentioned Jack the monkey - I like Jack and i have something special planned for him.)


	19. Jack remembers

A/N: This chapter is living (living?) proof that your feedback is important to me - I was originally going to leave the rest of Elizabeth's adventures on the _Dutchman _to the imagination, but if people like to read about pretty girls going tete-a-tete with squiddy monsters, then here's how I think it went down...

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Jones managed to storm out of the room to lessen the chance that he would lash out and kill her with his bare hands. He vented his rage all over the ship and only came back to the organ room when he felt calmer.

He took his seat. "I appreciate pluck," he said at last, in a steely voice that kept his feelings mostly hidden. "But I do _not _appreciate liars. Now. I am going to ask you some questions and I want to hear only the truth. Is that understood?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Elizabeth just nodded.

"You're not _in love _with Jack Sparrow?"

Elizabeth shook her head no.

"But he did play a part in the story you just told me."

Elizabeth nodded yes.

"The one you _are _in love with...Will Turner?"

Yes.

"The one you abandoned was the Navy man, the Commodore?"

Yes. _But how could he know that?_

"And it's him you're asking me to pardon."

That sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a bargain coming on, and Elizabeth was extremely reluctant to start bargaining with Davy Jones. "I'm not asking anything," she said quickly. "I just wanted you to know: James Norrington has had an extremely rough time and you shouldn't judge him too harshly, that's all. I'm not looking to make a deal."

That made him laugh. "I see you've got instructions not to start horse-trading with me."

"No instructions – just common sense." Elizabeth risked a small smile. "Even Barbossa is afraid to negotiate with you, and that's saying something."

It was hard to tell because of his lack of discernable facial features, but Jones seemed pleased. "And well he should be." He leaned closer to her suddenly. "I don't give away people's lives for nothing. If you won't bargain...will ye bet?"

Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "Deception? Will told me all about that game."

"You had a poor teacher," Jones laughed. "That boy was the worst player I've seen in many a year."

It wasn't a direct question, so Elizabeth felt she wasn't really _lying _if she just shrugged. Will might have explained the rules of the game to her, but it was Barbossa who had played her round after round, until she far surpassed her fiance's infantile grasp of Deception strategy.

Obviously she still couldn't be as good as Davy Jones, but he would underestimate her terribly and that would work to her advantage.

"Tell you what," she offered, "I'm new to this, so I need a bit of practice. Let's play for markers or something tonight, and then when I feel better we'll make the bet."

The blowhole on the side of Jones's face fluttered excitedly. "And what am I betting your friend's life against?" Habit had him expecting her to offer a year of servitude as a sailor...possibly two, if she wanted Norrington badly enough.

But she tossed her hair and surprised him again. "If you can't think of a single thing to ask a beautiful young woman before her marriage, then you're not the man I thought you were, Captain." Her tone turned mocking. "Or did you put _that _in the chest as well as your heart?"

Jack had implied more than once that Davy Jones was, ahem, _incapable_ of responding to this sort of suggestion, and sure enough, after a terrifyingly long pause he shook his head and made a counteroffer. "Again with the mouth, Miss Swann! Well, if it's the mouth I keep noticing, it's the mouth I want." He sounded a little bit angry and a good bit amused. "When you're ready, we'll bet your friend Norrington's life against a kiss." Because he liked to see her flinch, he added: "A nice _wet _one."

"Agreed."

She was impertinent and insulting, but Jones decided to let it pass unpunished. He felt completely confident that he would win the game and _then _he would really have an advantage. There was no way this girl would let a friend die for her failure – she would _beg _for a deal then, and agree to any demands Jones cared to make.

He thought he might begin with a heartfelt apology, made on her knees in a puddle of flaming lantern oil, on behalf of herself and of all fickle, teasing females who left their men in the lurch without a single thought of remorse fluttering through their pretty heads.

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Jones had not been lying when he warned Elizabeth about his relentless, dispassionate cruelty. He planned out a mindful of horrific things to do to her once she was in his power, but the whole night she read only stiff politeness in his face and voice. She didn't trust him per se, but certainly had no inkling that he fully intended to make her choose among his next set of prisoners who got to live and who had to die (he already knew that even the most soft-hearted people rarely failed to make a choice, when threatened with the deaths of the whole group. And whatever choice they made rarely failed to haunt them.).

When she had played – and lost – Deception until her eyes would barely stay open, he pronounced it bedtime and led her to the area he had reserved for the odd living guest he took aboard. The chamber was sealed off, so that the person could breathe even if the _Dutchman _submerged for a while, and was scrubbed endlessly by the crew to keep the barnacles and anemones to a minimum.

"Oh!" Elizabeth was clearly surprised by the normalcy of the place. "Is this your room?"

"It's for guests."

"Do you have many?"

"There've been a few."

There was a silence that seemed somehow ominous. "Might I ask what happened to them?"

Jones's tentacles moved gleefully. "Did you notice all those candleholders growing out of my walls...?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror and he laughed. "My guests are fine," he assured her, but it had a sinister sound. "_Nobody _dies on this ship, remember?"

He slammed the door behind him and Elizabeth wished desperately that she were somewhere else.

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That night, Elizabeth had a dream. One of _those _dreams. It was not really a surprise - since having been so rudely deprived of her wedding night, and then sailing for weeks upon weeks with pirates who showered her with lewd remarks and insinuations, lately Elizabeth had found her mind wandering into the bedroom pretty regularly.

The dream always took place on a ship. She was cowering alone in some cabin, until _he _burst in, barred the door for her, swore to protect her against the horrors lurking outside, and then happily ravished her by the fire (in her dreams there was always a fireplace in the cabin, and she thought it unfortunate that in real life ships didn't have them.) This night on the _Dutchman_, it was the same dream, and wonderful as always until she woke up and realized with shock and disgust that this time, her hero had most definitely notbeen Will.

Or even Jack.

"Oh, no, but he's so _old _and _dirty_," she moaned aloud. It was so unacceptable that she pulled the covers over head and buried her face in the pillow to block out the image.

But something about the pillow and blanket smelled distinctly familiar. She stayed where she was and inhaled a few more times. Yes. She had spent enough nights in Barbossa's bed wrapped in his coat that there was no mistaking it now.

Well, that explained the dream, at least. But it created other questions, most importantly: _Why has Barbossa been hanging about on the Flying Dutchman, and why didn't he tell me? _

One place to look for answers was Davy Jones – unappealing though the idea was. Elizabeth practiced breathing through her mouth, knowing that Jones probably got offended every time she retched at the foul stench of his presence.

_No, _she corrected herself, _he probably loves it. The awful creature. _

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Jack was sprawled out on deck, hat down over his eyes, snoring loudly. Pretending to fall into a drunken stupor was the best way to get people to leave him alone long enough to think.

And he _had _to think. If he didn't beat Barbossa to a workable plan now, he could kiss goodby his chance to wrangle permanent control of the _Pearl_ from the old pirate. The _Pearl _was all Jack wanted out of life at the moment, and it was the ship where Barbossa had spent the ten worst years of his life, so common sense said Jack should get to keep it. The problem was, Barbossa was (understandably) extremely doubtful of Jack's abilities. A good plan could perhaps help lay those doubts to rest.

Jack was trying hard to get useful planning done, but his mind kept wandering and after a while he found himself taking a break from planning to just _remember_...

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Jack heard the mob gathering outside his cabin door. He knew that hesitation now would mean death, so he drew his gun, cocked it, and kicked the door open – completely ready to put this mutiny down by shooting whomever stood nearest.

But at the head of the pack was none other than former Captain Barbossa, and Jack was so shocked he just let his pistol fall from his hand.

"_Arrrrr_!"

_Unarmed. This is it_. Frozen though his mind might be, Jack's instinct for self-preservation took over and he stumbled backwards into the cabin, away from the mutineers.

Barbossa followed him in and kicked the door closed behind them. The pirates outside started to chant and cheer.

"Idiot! You're through," Barbossa hissed. He grabbed a bottle from the table and hurled it against the wall. "Your only chance was to shoot me - or the one next to me - and scare the rest. You're an idiot, a child!"

"What do you want from me?" Naked desperation. Even now Jack winced to remember it.

Barbossa stepped up very close, towering over him, and jammed something into his belt. "I want you to carry that pistol," he snarled, "til you have the stomach to use it!" He strode over to the door and then turned back to face the young man whose life he had just ruined. There was silence for a moment.

Barbossa raised his hand and drew an X over his heart. He opened his arms and froze there a moment. When it became obvious that Jack was not drawing the gun, his lip curled in disgust and he shook his head. "Until then I have no use for ye, Jack Sparrow. You're nothing."

He shoved the door open and called, in full hearing of the crew, "You're not even worth killing!"

The crew laughed with him, eating up his every word and gesture, and Jack knew right then that they actually were going to let him live. Oddly enough, he didn't find the thought comforting.

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"Are ye awake?" Speak of the devil.

Jack didn't move. "No."

Barbossa settled down next to him anyway and said, "Turner and I have been discussin the possibility of getting Elizabeth back somehow. I have a plan, and I think we need her for it."

"Try asking good old Davy Jones - _without _promising your soul to him. I think it's a good shot, how about you?" Jack asked darkly from under his hat.

"Actually I found Davy Jones to be a reasonable man," Barbossa answered. "Other than bein a little too much the sadist for my taste."

"Oh, and just how well do you know him? Shared any special bonding experiences I don't know about? I've always wondered what he uses those tentacles for, if you know what I mean," Jack droned. He was still immobile, and it made Barbossa feel like he was talking to himself.

So he whisked off Jack's hat, and Jack shouted and covered his eyes against the sunlight.

"I had to spend a month aboard the _Dutchman_ - not all of us have friends to come sail us home from World's End," Barbossa reminded.

"You could have swum." Jack squinted out at the sea. "Listen, I'd advise against fetching Elizabeth, if we predict our adventures are going to take us anywhere near Port Royal." He didn't elaborate. Making Barbossa beg for information was a pleasure that he never got tired of.

After a moment Barbossa rolled his eyes and gave Jack what he wanted. "And why not, if you please?"

"Because then we'll have to rescue her father."

"Governor Swann? What's happened to Governor Swann?" Will had appeared out of nowhere, as anxious and high-strung as ever.

Strategy discussions were taking place, and Will would only make them more difficult, so Jack tried to shoo him away. "Off you go then, son, go play in the rigging or something." When Will didn't disappear, he added, "That's an order." He nudged Barbossa. "Tell him it's an order, mate."

"Out, Will."

"But-"

"Out! Just because Elizabeth's not here at the moment doesn't mean I can't beat her when she gets back! Now-"

"I can't believe you!" Will was so angry he sounded out of breath. "After all we've been through! God!"

He stormed off.

Jack glanced a question in Barbossa's direction, and Barbossa answered him aloud: "Aye. Just once. It did wonders for the boy's attitude. Now, what was that about Elizabeth's father?"

"He's been jailed for springing _her _from jail, and considering she was sentenced to die for springing _me _from jail, me being sentenced to die, therefore Governor Swann is also sentenced to die for springing her. Got it?"

"Frighteningly enough, I do." Barbossa considered it for a moment. "And she doesn't know?"

"No. She's been away."

"So have you," Barbossa pointed out. "How did _you_ find out?"

Jack leaned close as though about to divulge a secret. "I," he breathed, "am Captain Jack Sparrow."

Barbossa cuffed him upside the head, and he revised his answer. "Ow. All right," he sulked, "I asked for news from the man you took from the pirate hunters. He told me all about it."

Barbossa frowned. "Who?" When Jack pointed him out, he went over to get a better look. "Who are you?"

"You hired me, sir. Remember? There were four of us, but three got eaten by that monster at World's End, and now it's just me."

"Oh." Barbossa had meant to feed _all _the Navy men to the monster, but apparently this one had got lucky while another poor pirate had been eaten in his stead. Such a shame. Anyway, there were more important matters.

He turned back to Jack, supremely annoyed. "All right, I believe you. So now what? I suppose you've got a better plan?"

Jack backed a safe distance away before answering. "Of course, mate," he lied. He was about to add, _I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, _but decided Barbossa was probably not in the mood.

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But whatever mystery plan Jack had concocted, it too required Elizabeth. So, barely a week after having given her up as a hostage, they hailed the _Dutchman _to ask for her return.

While they waited for Davy Jones to pull alongside, Will hassled Barbossa for the spyglass to get the earliest possible glimpse of Elizabeth. She was standing beside Jones, looking pale and terrified.

Will watched through the glass as they exchanged words - Elizabeth seeming to plead for something, Jones arguing with her and then finally giving in. He had a bad feeling.

When they were in shouting distance, Barbossa greeted the _Dutchman _and then got straight to the point. "We have a plan to get to that heart but we're going to need Elizabeth. You'll have to take another hostage for the time being, and give her back to us."

Jones said something to Elizabeth, and she drew closer to him, behind him... almost as though she didn't want to go. He laughed at her and pushed her forward. "Very well, but the lady has something to tell you first. A message for young William."

Will stepped to the rail. "Elizabeth?" he prompted, knowing full well that his voice was too quiet for her to hear.

She looked like she was about to cry. "Will, I'm so sorry," he read from her lips, but her voice did not carry.

So Jones helped her. "Will: I'm so sorry," he repeated at the top of his voice. "Your father - I tried - I'm so sorry." He made no effort to hide his amusement, and an overpowering urge to kill swept through Will.

"W- What about my father? What have you done to him?" Will shouted as soon as he could.

Jones waved his claw and his men put a plank across. "Why don't you come over and see for yourself?"

Will glanced to Barbossa for permission. The captain's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and rather than wait for an answer Will just decided _to hell with it _and just ran straight over.

"You might want to try and stop him," Jack suggested, "Before he does something stupid." Barbossa growled and went across.

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TBC. Sorry for the cliffhanger, and for the typos if there were any. I would have liked to spend more time on this chapter, but I'm going away for the weekend and I wanted to get something up before I leave. Leave me some love for when I get back!


	20. Bootstrap Bill is finally freed

Elizabeth took Will's hand and pulled him towards the hold. Jones and Barbossa followed. "He's down here - Will..."

Will clambered down the ladder and blinked until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. At first he was confused - there was nobody here, only the empty ship... Then he saw. A moment went by. "No."

The face in the wall became animated suddenly. "William? Son? Is that you?" Bootstrap made a great effort and pried his head free a little so he could lean forward and get a better look.

"I released him from his vows as I promised," Davy Jones informed them, all smiles. "But for some reason he still doesn't seem to be leaving!"

"Will I'm so sorry." Elizabeth was struggling not to cry. "I tried, I did, but it kept happening. It was already like this when I came aboard and it just gets worse and worse…"

"No." Will stepped forward. "I _will_ free you."

Bootstrap shook his head as far as he was able. "Too late for that, son," he said hoarsely. "The _Dutchman _is claiming me and there's no escape."

"I'll kill him. I'll kill Jones and-"

"-and then this ship will rot away and me with it. There's no escape, son. This is it. I'm just glad I got to see you while I still remember who you are." He watched Will expectantly and a long moment passed in silence.

It was Barbossa who broke it. "Are ye allowed to ask the captain for death? Or must ye serve the ship until your hundred years have passed?"

Bootstrap's red eyes shot over to him. "Deepest thanks to you, Captain Barbossa. No – we are not allowed to ask for death. I have an eternity left to lie here, paralyzed – exactly as he found me, come to think of it – watching other men's lives and hopes waste away, just as mine did."

Will had no idea what to say. He just stood by helplessly, until long minutes later he felt someone take him by the wrist and guide his hand to his hip. Where he kept his knife.

It took him a moment to understand, but when he did he whirled around immediately. "Barbossa, _no_."

But the pirate had removed himself from the scene by turning his back, and resolutely ignored all of Will's attempts to get his attention. Will suddenly noticed that Davy Jones and Elizabeth had vanished, too. He was alone.

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Elizabeth had in fact _dragged _Jones above deck, because it had seemed like he was about to interfere.

"Can you even _grasp _the horror that Will's father faces?" she demanded once they were out of earshot of the hold.

"The man had a choice, Elizabeth. And so does young William - if he robs me of a part of my ship, you realize he'll have to take its place."

He said it with a glee that made her shudder, but she forced herself to stay bossy. She put her hands on her hips. "Davy Jones, you bragged to me that you never have a shortage of souls to serve here," she argued. "Ever. If that's true, then you don't _need_ Bootstrap or Will. So there's no reason for this. I'm asking you: please let it go. Please."

Jones was watching her thoughtfully. "You seem to have forgotten that this is how I amuse myself. I want to see what your William will do. He brought it on himself – being stupid enough to love."

"To love?" Elizabeth thought fast. "I thought you were interested first and foremost in romantic love – not the love a son bears his father. What if we could come to an arrangement whereby you _amuse yourself _through Will's romantic interest – me – rather than that poor man below?"

Jones's squiddy mouth made a wet pop. "And how would you propose I do that?"

She tried her best to keep the revulsion off her face, but doubted she was successful. "Well, there's always what I wagered over Deception. I know you were upset you didn't win."

"Upset? I didn't win because you _cheated_!"

"I did not cheat!"

"You did!" He poked her with his claw hard enough that she lost her balance and had to take a step back. "You lost forty-six rounds out of fifty when we were only playing for markers." Poke. "And then suddenly when it's time to play a real wager," poke, "_Then _all of a sudden you've learned to read my mind!"

He went for another poke, but Elizabeth intercepted the claw and shoved it aside. "I didn't cheat," she repeated fiercely. "How about this: I'll tell you how I did it, and in return you will renounce your claim on Will for robbing you of _part of your ship_." It made her sick to speak of a human being that way.

Jones considered. He knew the boy would be more trouble than he was worth aboard the _Dutchman_, and (having never forgiven him for the theft of the key), wanted very much to make him watch the love of his life be unfaithful. "You'll tell me,_ and _you'll kiss me – in front of dear William – and _then _I'll count it a fair trade for the boy."

"Deal." If it were not bad luck to speak ill of the dead, Elizabeth would have cursed Bootstrap for putting her in such a position. But she knew it was a good deal – what was a few unpleasant moments when weighed against a man's eternal torment?

"Well, I won't keep you in suspense. It's your, um..." she gestured. "Your beard. It, well, it wiggles more when you're lying, or when you're not sure if I am. When you're confident you've won, the whole thing goes very still, except for those biggest pieces - they sort of curl up and down. Rather like cats' tails. There - I've told you."

"And you're half paid up." He laughed, not pleasantly.

She took a deep breath and tried not to notice his fishy smell.

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Will gathered himself up and looked back to his father. "You can't want me to…"

Bootstrap gave a short huff of laughter. "No, I can't say I ever _wanted _things to turn out this way," he agreed. "But Will…you did promise to free me…and there's only one way to do that now."

"There must be something else."

"The _Dutchman _is her own master, son. She can't be bargained with, fooled, or defeated. Jones himself can't say who she takes or when. My time is up. William. Please."

"Don't," Will gasped over an unexpected hitch in his breath. "Don't beg me. Please. You know you don't have to beg me. I will do anything for you."

"Then this is the thing. Will? Are you ready?"

Will slowly drew the knife that his father had given him. "Y- No. I- I can't."

"Yes you can. I have faith in you – you're my son, you can do anything." Bootstrap gave him the best smile he had left and then jerked himself forward with everything he had.

Will leaped forward to catch his father in his arms as most – but not all – of him pulled free from the ship and toppled to the floor. He made horrible cracking sounds as they landed, Will kneeling and Bootstrap in front of him, sprawled backwards into his lap. The dying man tilted his head back with a mechanical creak. "William…"

Dark bluish water was dripping from his mouth. He was coughing weakly and choking on it. Will nodded and put the knife to his father's throat. "I love you. Are you ready?"

Bootstrap spat out another mouthful of water and tried once more. "I'm sorry I wasn't such a father to you-"

"None of that now," Will said firmly, before his voice broke. "You were magnificent and I am...honestly grateful…that I got to know you."

"Thank you, Will." Water was oozing from his nose now, too, and he smiled sadly. "I think…it's time."

"All right. Father...goodbye. I love you." Will shot one arm around his father's chest, holding him close as he slit his throat from ear to ear.

What spewed from Bootstrap's neck was mostly seawater and small fish, but there was also one bright streak of blood. Will touched it and then brought his hand to his lips. "Goodbye," he whispered again, kissing the last little bits of his father's human body.

When the corpse stopped jerking and all the little fish went limp, Will stood up. He noticed that Barbossa was still standing there, facing away, and he touched him on the shoulder. "Let's go. It's done." He didn't even notice that his voice was steady.

The pirate removed his hat and inclined his head towards the dead man. Will found himself thinking that he should resent this show of respect – after all, Barbossa was the one who'd sent his father to the depths in the first place – but he was too drained. "Let's go," he repeated, and led the way upstairs.

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Davy Jones pulled Elizabeth in as soon as he heard feet on the ladder. That way, the boy would see that kissing had been going on while he was downstairs, and hopefully would wonder in misery about whether it had been going on all week. He bent her backwards over his arm like a dancer and covered her mouth with his.

Jones was concentrating so hard on Will's reaction that he didn't get much out of the kiss. But Elizabeth, of course, had it far worse.

It was like trying to eat a raw, live fish that was simultaneously trying to eat _her_. She was relieved to discover that other than not having proper lips, Jones's oral anatomy was generally normal. _Thank God. _She thought she might scream if she felt a tentacle poking around in there.

Just when she thought she had a grip on her gag reflex and was going to be all right, though, his beard got a little too close for comfort. _Euugh. _Slimy auxiliary appendages going down her shirt had _not _been part of the deal. Elizabeth raised her hand to shoo them away, but other than that, she put up no resistance to the fishman's kiss. She let him tilt her head how he liked, let him decide how deep the kiss would go, and let him continue until he felt he had had enough.

But the moment the kiss was over, Elizabeth's passivity vanished. She stood up straight and seized a handful of the tentacles that served Jones as hair, jerking his head back.

"I hope you enjoyed that," she breathed into his ear, "Because I doubt you'll ever get another. It's the kiss of a woman in love." She released him, wiped her mouth, and spat on the deck by his feet. "Will and I are going to be happy. You are contemptible, and I hope you're as miserable as you make everyone else. Goodbye."

Elizabeth went to her fiancé, gave him a quick hug, then put her arm around him to lead him away.

Jones watched them go, leaning on each other, and felt oddly bereft.

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Barbossa was almost there. He was on the plank, two measly steps away from the _Pearl _and safety when Jones collected himself enough to demand, "Where do you think you're going?"

Barbossa scowled. Why did Jack Sparrow's tricks only work for Jack Sparrow? "Yes, yes, I know," he snapped, as if he of course had had no intention of sneaking off the _Dutchman _before Jones remembered he required a hostage. "Be patient for ten more seconds and then you can have me - with the same protective conditions we named for Miss Elizabeth."

Jones snorted. "Have no fear, Barbossa, I have no interest in mistreating _you._"

But Barbossa ignored him. He caught Will's eye and ordered, "Get below, Turner, you've had enough for today."

Will nodded unsteadily and went off alone. Jack and Elizabeth stuck around to make the final arrangements. "If all goes according to plan we'll meet on the open seas, at the spot Jack and I thought up, with the heart," Barbossa called to them. "And if not?"

"Isla Cruces," Jack suggested, loathe to suggest bringing Davy Jones to an island he actually used himself. "It's as good a place as any. Uniquely appropriate. Very scenic, too…the parts that are left after our last trip, anyway. If we don't show up at the meeting place as planned, have Jones sail that thing to Isla Cruces as fast as it'll go." He paused. "Are you sure..."

They looked at each other uncomfortably, and it took Elizabeth a moment to guess at what they were thinking. Perhaps it was simply this: Jones had no reason whatsoever to keep his hostage alive. Elizabeth had been safe because she was leverage against the others and also because she was pretty, but Barbossa had no such protection.

Barbossa shrugged at last. "I don't see a choice here. Just play it straight, Jack. No mistakes and no tricks, and I think we can count on him to do the same. _Straight_, Jack."

Jack nodded and waved goodbye.

Barbossa was halfway across the divide before Elizabeth was seized by a sudden terror that she might never see him again. "Captain Barbossa!" She rushed to the foot of the plank as he turned around. But all of a sudden she realized that people were watching her and that she had no idea what she was going to say. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind, and she reached up to push it off her face, glad for the second to think. "Be careful," she said at last.

Wearing an expression that suggested he was trying not to smile, he came back towards her with a slow, swaggering gait that seemed dangerous with just a narrow board between him and the sea.

His boots clunked solidly on the wood with every step. His shoulders were loose and he rested one hand casually on his sword – a textbook image of a Pirate With Everything Under Control. He came back to the _Pearl _and stepped down from the plank to stand eye level with Elizabeth. She found herself mysteriously unable to look at him. He leaned very close to her ear as though to tell her a secret, but then didn't say anything and all she heard was a low chuckle.

He went across to the _Flying Dutchman _without looking back again, still calm. Elizabeth, remembering how secretly afraid she had been a week ago taking that same walk, was comforted and impressed by his attitude.

Jack, on the other hand, knowing him a little better, judged him to be almost terrified enough to wail for his mama, and thought it a shame that a grown male pirate couldn't even be as brave as a girl raised to wear dresses and squeal at the sight of a spider.

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TBC.

Yes I know, I know, the title of the chapter was a little misleading. But Bootstrap Bill has been in various stages of death and decay for the ENTIRE two movies so far and I think it is entirely appropriate that the poor guy finally gets a rest. In this story he will not be coming back except in flashbacks. So while you might see a little more of Bootstrap's name in print, if you were going to sing him a requiem, this would be the opportune moment to do so.


	21. Davy Jones pours drinks

Jack was half pleased and half nervous. He was pleased that he no longer had to worry about Barbossa looking over his shoulder to second-guess his decisions, and nervous that it would soon be apparent he had in fact no plan at all.

But with Elizabeth back - and Barbossa gone - a whole new set of options came into focus. Most importantly, he now had the option of _not _playing it straight. Jack considered himself easygoing and forgiving by nature, but he was not yet over what had been done to him, his ship, and very nearly his friends as well. Davy Jones had promised him thirteen years as captain and as far as Jack was concerned, he had not delivered. He had ignored years' worth of attempts to contact him, refused Jack's perfectly reasonable offer of a soul to serve the _Dutchman_, and quite dishonorably preferred to send the Kraken after Jack's ship and crew rather than after Jack himself.

So Jack had just about had enough. Besides, he had a feeling that Jones's hatred for him was like _his _hatred for Jack the monkey - it made lies of the most solemn promises, transcended all reason and lasted beyond even death itself. Agreement or not – _especially_ after that little incident with the, heh heh, unauthorized borrowing of the heart and its, ha ha whoops, subsequent accidental misplacement – he doubted Jones would ever be able to leave him alone. He squinted into the sunset and muttered, "It'll be him or me," because he liked the sound of it.

Besides, he was _Captain Jack Sparrow _for heaven's sake! It would be a decade and a half of tradition out the window for him to make a straight deal with no ulterior motives and stick with it.

He felt a slight twinge in his stomach when he considered that some of his friends might be killed before this was all over, but then he comforted himself by thinking that they probably wouldn't, and anyway, that a short life full of adventure is much better than a long life with no fun at all. He was sure it would all work out in the end. Sure enough, anyway.

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Barbossa stumbled out of his room. First-class brooder though he was, it was too difficult to concentrate on a pillow strewn with Elizabeth's scent and hair. He preferred his gloom to be a little more private.

"I can't be in there," he muttered to himself.

"And why not?" Davy Jones was on him in an instant. Barbossa jumped.

"Do you have to do that?" he snapped, then answered the question... in a manner of speaking. "Things. On my mind."

Bored as ever, Jones steered him into the organ room and prompted, "Such as?"

Barbossa snorted. "_You _have to ask?"

A tiny silence before Jones answered: "Ah." After a longer pause he suggested, "You know there's always the magic that I..."

Barbossa managed not to flinch. "Thanks, but it's not that serious." He dismissed the problem with a wave of his hand and explained, "Really. A wench would do me a world of good. I think I'll stop by Tortuga next chance I get, see if any of my old favorites are still there."

"That won't help," said Jones reflexively. If there was a way to rain on someone's parade – even a parade as small and joyless as that one – he had to take it.

"No, probably not." Barbossa opened his flask and discovered that it was nearly empty. "A hundred differenty types of damnation," he growled, shaking it for the last drop. "I think the world hates me."

Jones didn't drink often, because these days alcohol tasted like poison to him. But because there were those occasional nights he woke up and even the locket wasn't enough to get him to sleep, he always kept a bottle or two handy. He dug one out of his drawer and poured for both of them. Barbossa held up his crusty glass. "To old Bill Turner," he said listlessly, draining it in one gulp.

Jones noted the sloppy gesture he used to wipe rum from his beard. "That flask was full when you came here, wasn't it?"

Barbossa made a face. "This is the sixth or seventh time I've made that toast tonight."

"Ah."

"I could _hear _it, Davy, I could hear it in his very voice. I could have sworn-" he broke off. "But that's ridiculous. I think I'm going mad."

"What did you hear?" Jones was intrigued despite himself. He poured another round of rum and gestured for Barbossa to drink.

"We were standing there in the hold, just looking. I was thinking. And I know we were silent, I _know _it…. but still… I could swear I heard the boy sayin, _This is all YOUR fault_. In that…you know…that..." he gestured aimlessly while he fished for a word. "_Accusey _way he has," he finished at last. "And Davy? You know I keep thinking... he might be right."

It took Jones a minute to piece the mumblings together. It helped when Barbossa added out of the blue: "I meant for him to drown in a couple of months. How could I have known?"

"So the fearsome Captain Barbossa needs to make confession, does he?" Jones's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Humble apologies, but I have no priest here. Listen, you know you're not thinking properly," he added after a moment. He poured them another drink. "You were certainly within your rights to kill him. It took him a while to die, yes. But that's because the curse lasted. And _that_ was Bill Turner's own fault."

"Well..." Barbossa considered that through the haze of two or three drinks too many. "Wait - how do you know about the curse? I never told you the details..."

"Your little siren has quite a mouth on her."

Barbossa's dark mood lifted a hair and he smiled. "Aye, that be the truth."

"She's a _filthy_ person, Captain, I don't see why you brought her or why she's still alive." Jones poured again.

"I wouldn't call her filthy," Barbossa said, doing his best to exercise a little control over his rummy tongue. "The furthest I would go is _vixen_, and even that isn't certain. She's young and silly, true… but very good to that William of hers. And annoyinly faithful," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh? And what about the one _before _William?" He poured.

Barbossa shrugged. "Bah. That was what you marry for, not what's in _here_." He meant to pat himself on the chest, but wound up whacking himself in the shoulder instead. He threw Jones a glare, but his tone was all grudging admiration as he observed, "And now ye have me babbling like an idiot." He sighed. "You win, Davy Jones. What do you want to know?"

Jones almost asked about what Jack Sparrow was _really _planning, but he thought better of it for several reasons: first, because Barbossa was crazy like a fox and might well be feigning this entire spell of drunken honesty, second, because it was unlikely that Jack Sparrow would have shared his plans with anyone after all the times he'd been stabbed in the back, and third, because it was unlikely that Jack Sparrow _had _any plans to speak of anyway.

So finally he just said, "No questions, Barbossa, just a piece of advice. Forget about Bootstrap Bill - you did right to dump him over, and everything that happened since has been his own choice."

"That's how you sleep at night?" Barbossa demanded with a harsh laugh. "_It's their own choice_? When they're growing out of the walls, stuck trapped half between livin and dead, nothing left for them and no hope and worst of all no way to end it… _no way to end it, _Davy, that's what Hell is, you must know that by now… And you don't care because it's _their own choice_?"

Jones honestly didn't seem disturbed. "They're welcome to take death when I offer it them," he reminded easily. He leaned forward, glowing with some malicious private amusement. "If they're afraid, if they decide from their gut instead of their head, that's hardly my fault, is it?"

"You're only givin them what they think they want," Barbossa agreed, heavy with sarcasm. "You're practically doing them a favor."

Jones banged his fist down on his keyboard suddenly, making the room shake with the organ's discordant roar. "You," he warned quietly, "Have been spending a little too much time around young Will Turner, it seems. You had better watch that _accusey _manner of yours, Barbossa. Or we'll have problems."

"Thank ye kindly, but I already have enough problems," Barbossa answered, as though refusing the offer of an additional life insurance policy. He rose, squinted until the world straightened itself out, and declared, "I'm goin to bed. And I'm takin that bottle with me."

"You're welcome to it," Jones said. He leaned his head back and guzzled what rum remained, then handed over the empty bottle. "There you go."

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"There had to have been something." Will said into his arms. He was seated at the table, collapsed over it. The bottle of rum was within easy reach... but still untouched.

"Yes, there was - and you did it. You freed your father from his worst nightmare in the only way that was left. Will. Look at me." Elizabeth waited until he took his head off the table and made eye contact. "You did the right thing."

"Elizabeth...that was my _father_. I killed my father."

"Now, you know it isn't like that," she argued again. "Your father wasn't _alive _in the first place - he was trapped. You set him free."

"There had to have been another way."

"You took the only way there was."

"But Elizabeth, he's my _father_, I actually _killed _my own _father_..."

With breaks for eating and sleeping, and brief bouts of attention to unrelated material, this conversation had been going on for four whole days. Repetitive, yes, but if there was even the slightest hope of making Will feel better Elizabeth was willing to try.

She waited until he had tired himself out of talking, held him while he cried again, and then assured him that _yes _she had spent hour upon hour in conversation with Bootstrap and _yes _she had asked him all the questions Will had been dying to and _yes _she was sure her memories were clear on everything they had discussed.

She could see that it helped a little, but not much. She told him about the long rambling letter Bootstrap had dictated to her, but would not show him until he was calmer, because she was afraid he would cry all over it and ruin it.

Elizabeth was very proud of her man, for although he was clearly conflicted over what he had done, he had not started to drink or developed a temper or begun hating himself or any other of a hundred worst-case scenarios she had dreamed up when she first noticed that Bootstrap's feet stuck to the deck whenever he stood still for too long.

Will was hurting now, but she knew he would be all right. So, much as she hated to leave him, as soon as he fell asleep that night she rushed out of their cabin and went to talk strategy with Jack.

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TBC.

Sorry for the chapter being short and comparatively non-exciting. It gets better – we're about to reconnect with our dear friend Norrington.

How do you like it so far?

Oh, and a mild spoiler for the future: I think Davy Jones will soon realize that Elizabeth has tricked him. I think his sympathy for Norrington will vanish and he will be quite pissed off. I've decided he's probably not such a bad guy around other men, but I do think he's still terrified of women and that's why he was desperate to show Elizabeth who's in charge.


	22. Lord Beckett is intrigued

There had been no point talking strategy with Jack, as it seemed that Jack had decided to talk strategy with nobody save Jack the monkey. (Jack the pirate had been extremely annoyed to find that his namesake had somehow reappeared on the ship. He guessed it must have swum for miles until it caught up, which led to vague plans of a ship towed by undead dolphins or oxen or something, which could work forever without needing to be fed. Jack decided to look into it as soon as he had finished with the Davy Jones problem. And then he loaded Jack the monkey into a cannon and fired him over to the _Dutchman _to get him out of his hair.).

But in any case all of Jack's plans were made alone, in his cabin. He would not share their full scope with the crew, even when he gave them their orders:

"Set a course for Port Royal."

Then, days later: "We'll grab some captives - _live _ones, that's very important, gents, they have to be alive. We fire a few cannons, and we get out of there as fast as we can."

"But why?" Will spoke up. "Barbossa heard from Norrington that the heart is always either _in _Port Royal, or at sea, on a special ship that Beckett-"

"Exactly."

"But we don't know which spot it's in now! And if we attack one and we're wrong, Beckett will know and we'll have failed. He'll say one word to Jones and out comes the Kraken and it's all over for us."

"That," Jack said grandly, "Is why I propose a plan that removes the heart from _either _of these two locations. We'll have Beckett bring the heart to Isla Cruces - where he doesn't have a full fort of guards and prisons and gallows waiting for us. We'll take it from him there."

Will crossed his arms. "And how are you going to get Beckett to bring the heart from where he knows it's safe?"

Jack looked over at Elizabeth. "_Persuasion_," he purred.

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But as soon as they had landed, quietly, a fair distance away from the harbor, Jack pulled Elizabeth aside. "The _rest_ of them are going to make for the streets and take captives," he whispered. "You and I are going to the jail."

"What? Why?"

"Trust me, you'll see when we get there."

By the time Elizabeth and Jack had successfully sneaked into the fort, Port Royal was in chaos from the pirate attack. The jail was thus left unguarded, and Jack scampered through lifting doors off hinges left and right, freeing all the criminals and madmen, knowing that every monkey wrench he threw into this evening could only help. Finally, in a dismal cell at the end he found who he was looking for. He threw the door out of the way and stepped in. "Evening, Governor," he said calmly, tipping his hat. He reached down and offered him a hand. "Let's go."

But Governor Swann scrambled backwards on the floor until he hit the wall behind him. He cowered down on the ground, shutting his eyes tight. "_No _God it's a ghost..." He began to mumble his prayers as best he could remember them in his terror.

"F-Father?" Elizabeth had come up behind Jack. When she saw the identity of their rescuee, she rushed over and threw herself at him in a hug that made him shriek. "Father it's me, it's Elizabeth, what are you doing here, oh my God!"

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth? No..." he held her at arms length to look her over. "It can't be you - they told me you'd been killed!"

"No, no, mate, you heard wrong." Jack was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed and hat pulled low over his eyes. "_I _was the one who was killed."

Governor Swann looked utterly bewildered. "Later, Father, I'll explain it all later, I promise." Elizabeth pulled him to his feet and winced. "Jack - there's shackles."

"Lizzie - there's keys." He tossed a keyring to her and she unlocked the cuffs, wondering why Jack had felt the need to tear all the doors off the hinges if he had had keys all along.

But there were more important things to wonder about: namely, what on earth was her father doing here and how on earth had Jack known? But it hardly mattered, did it, since he was safe now. On her way out of the cell she gave Jack a hug and murmured "Thank you, Jack," into his chest. His arms came up around her for just one tiny second, but the easy familiarity of it made the governor nervous. He pulled Elizabeth aside.

"I am still trying to come to terms with William Turner," he told her. "Please tell me that I will not have to accept a son-in-law who wears the pirate's brand."

She shook her head with a smile. "Jack is just a friend, Father. A very good friend. Now come on - we have to get back to the ship."

"Actually," Jack corrected conscientiously, "_He _has to get back to the ship. You and I stay here, love. We have to get ourselves captured."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "What?"

"If you think for one minute I am leaving my daughter here in this cell, Sparrow, you've lost what mind you had." Governor Swann stepped in front of her. "I won't go without her."

Jack huffed impatiently and flapped his hands in a manner that suggested he wanted Elizabeth to reason with him.

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I don't like it either," she said at last. "But he has brought us this far. I think perhaps we should just trust him."

"Leave you here?" Swann was aghast.

"Not here, really," Jack put in. "We intend to be captured as close to Beckett's hiding place as we possibly can."

When Elizabeth reiterated her faith in the plan one more time, Governor Swann finally agreed to go off to the meeting place in their stead, and explain to Will the next phase of the plan.

He gave Elizabeth such a long hug before he left that even Jack worried they would run out of time.

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When Jack was sure she understood what to do, they broke into Beckett's office and started rummaging around, taking care to make a bit of noise. "I _told _you it's not here," Jack hissed.

"It must be," she argued. "I heard Norrington say it myself. Nobody lies to Davy Jones, you know that. It must be here."

"I don't think Norrington was lying, I think he was _lied to_," Jack answered, opening up drawers and shuffling through their contents. "He might _believe_ Beckett really put the thing here, but honestly, even Beckett is not that stupid. See? You little fool of a girl! It's not here!"

"Well, now what?" she asked once she had ripped into all the rest of Beckett's cabinets.

"Now," Jack growled, pouncing on her, "You've brought me here for nothing."

"Let go of me! _Jack_!" This had not been part of the plan. Jack was supposed to be provoking Beckett, not provoking _her_! It was not an act when she tried to shove him away.

He held her easily. "Oh, what are you going to do," he growled, "Scream?"

At that moment the door burst open. "She won't have to," said Lord Beckett, smug as everything. "Yes, I've heard the whole thing."

Jack drew his pistol immediately and tried to shoot, but Beckett's guards had drawn at the same time and Elizabeth tackled Jack to the ground to get him out of the line of fire. Everyone missed.

A moment later the guards were on them, hauling them roughly to their feet. "I told you it wasn't here!" Jack barked at her.

"For a change, Miss Swann, Sparrow is right," Beckett droned, sounding bored. "I really am _not _so stupid."

"See?" Jack pitched his voice high and gave a terrible imitation of Beckett's highbrow accent. "Oh yes, I think I shall just _bring _the heart of Davy Jones into my _home city,_ so that he can just _come on in _and take it and slaughter everyone I know! Tee hee!"

Beckett cocked his head. "Davy Jones can't set foot on land, everybody knows that."

"Ha!" Elizabeth drew herself up and cast a triumphant look in Jack's direction. "See? I told you! He really _is _that stupid! It might not be actually in this office, but he really was stupid enough to bring the thing home!"

"What?" Beckett couldn't believe he was losing control of the situation when both intruders were already captured and being pinned by three guards apiece.

Jack had gone very still. "You don't really have the heart here, do you, mate?"

"Why? What are you talking about?"

Elizabeth was watching his face. "He does. My God. We have to get out of here!"

She and Jack explained in a panic that it was only the enchanted island of Isla Cruces that Davy Jones was unable to set foot on. Jones had been told where the heart was, they said, and was coming for it. As a result, _they_ had come to steal it if possible, and if not possible, at least to escape with everyone that mattered to them in this city. Jack had already freed his pirate friends and Elizabeth her father.

"Leave the heart, _forget _the heart, we have to go," Jack finished. "If it's here Jones will sense it. We have to go _now_."

"I- I don't believe you," Beckett stuttered uncertainly.

"Norrington played you for a fool, mate. Tell me something: where is he now?"

"He... he went out after the pirates who..."

"Yes exactly: he's gone from here. Leaving _you_ in the lurch," Elizabeth agreed. "You're as big an idiot as I thought. My father could have been killed for your greed, you disgusting-"

"She could be telling the truth," Beckett said loudly, over her, "But then again she could be lying. Get the heart to my ship just in case - the _special _ship. We know it's safe there. We're going to Isla Cruces. And in case this is a trap... we'll take these two with us, to bargain with."

"Do what you like with us, mate, only _get us out of this city,_" Jack said quietly. "I'd rather face death a hundred times over than be taken by Davy Jones."

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Fortunately Beckett's ship was already prepared for departure in case of just this sort of emergency. Jack and Elizabeth were brought to it blindfolded, so that they could not see the arrangements that were used to keep the heart protected.

As soon as they were underway, and the heart firmly set in its elaborate safeguards, Beckett decided to spend some quality time with his prisoners. His first move was to make Elizabeth watch Jack Sparrow kicked around by his men for awhile. It was fun, but neither she nor Jack himself gave Beckett the reaction he was hoping for. He eventually gave it up and had Elizabeth brought to him instead, alone and in chains, to pass the time until they reached Isla Cruces.

His first reaction to her ragged appearance had been distaste, but after he had gotten used to it he decided the dirty, pigpen look rather suited her. Or could be made to.

He smiled benignly at her and snapped his fingers for Mercer. "Those aren't necessary," he said with a gesture towards her shackles.

Elizabeth's chin shot up. "Yes, they are."

"I see," Beckett said after a moment. "And do I need the guards as well?"

"Only if you value your miserable life," she growled at him. "I can't imagine what you've brought me here for. I don't know anything about Jack's plans, and even if I did, I would never tell you, regardless of what you do to me. And if you try to take liberties to the extent of so much laying one finger on the very tip of my nose, I shall bite it off and then proceed to make a eunuch out of you. Is that quite understood, Lord Beckett?"

He found himself charmed by the transformation of the highborn lady into a street urchin. "My, my, but you've grown so...forceful."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I assure you you have no idea." She jerked out of the grip of the guards and ordered them, "Leave us alone."

Beckett nodded and they went out. He poured only one drink, sipped from it, and then offered her the remains. She wouldn't touch it. "I wonder," he said at last, "Whether you would persist in this hostile attitude of yours if I told you that your friend Captain Sparrow might suffer for it?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I like Jack, but you're mad if you think I'd be willing to make a trade for the life of a _pirate. _And you'd be madder still to think you could overpower me."

"Perhaps."

Beckett might have an appetite for suffering, but Elizabeth was willing to bet he lacked the stomach to inflict it himself. She also thought that he was three-quarters intimidated already, so all that remained was to cement her hold over him by showing a little contempt and a little skin. "Look at this." Even with her hands bound it was an easy matter to slip the wide neck of her pirate shirt down over her shoulder to show off her bullet wound, which by now had closed into a rough, angry-looking red scar. "You can't scare me. That's why I sent the guards away - to save you the embarrassment of their seeing you try and fail."

Her assessment of Lord Cutler Beckett was about seventy percent correct. There were two important aspects she had missed: First, Beckett's failure to rise to her challenges was more a result of bemusement than intimidation. Second, instead of being merely humiliated by his inability to handle this little hellcat, Beckett was humiliated, intrigued, and truly admiring.

He let her eat from his own plate before sending her back to the brig with instructions that the prisoners were not to be fed.

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Elizabeth's first clue about Beckett's unhealthy interest was that when she awoke in the cell, he was perched on a stool mere inches from the bars, watching her intently.

"What do _you _want?" she demanded rudely. Her pillow shifted and groaned beneath her, so she struggled up into a sitting position. "Sorry, Jack."

She scooted closer to the bars and addressed Beckett in a lower voice. "Well?"

"You always call Sparrow by his given name," Beckett observed. It was dark enough that she couldn't make out much of his face, but the smile was plain in his voice. "So who is this 'Captain' you were dreaming about? Not me, is it? He sounds like quite a lot of fun."

"_What_?" Elizabeth half-shrieked, forgetting her intention to let Jack keep sleeping.

It was a shot in the dark - Beckett was sure that this dream had simply been a garden-variety nightmare. But now, thanks to his cleverness and her guilty conscience, he knew a fairly useful secret. He wished he could figure out who was this man on her mind… the one she turned to when she was frightened and unsure...

Interesting, Beckett thought, that her protector of choice was neither her fiancé, nor her father, nor the pirate in whose lap she had so indecorously spent the night. Davy Jones perhaps? Hmm.

This person could be the key to predicting her behavior and more importantly, to understanding this new, troublesome (yet alluring) confidence of hers. Once he had cracked that nut, he would be a long step closer to achieving his goals - _all _his goals.

Because the list of Lord Beckett's goals had recently been amended.

Now, not only did he want the heart which was the key to incalculable wealth and power, he _also_ wanted the loyalty and admiration (among other things) of one Miss Elizabeth Swann. A girl who had at one time been engaged to a blacksmith-turned-pirate called Will Turner. That engagement was over now, of course, Beckett was certain. Elizabeth and Turner simply hadn't been told yet.

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The arrival of Jack (the monkey) presented Barbossa with a very delicate problem. On the one hand, Jack the monkey was a very dear and faithful friend and of course deserved nothing but the best.

On the other hand, however, especially after having gone and gotten all drunk and chatty with Davy a few nights ago, Barbossa was hesitant to be seen cuddling with something soft and furry. His best protection against enemies – and Davy Jones was stillan enemy, regardless of how understanding a few drinks made him – was the appearance of having veins full of icewater. He was not sure he could do without that protection now, even for dear old Jack the monkey.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

This time, instead of jumping in surprise, Barbossa went on the offensive. "So, even the great Davy Jones, who _never _needs to make confession, needs somebody to talk to from time to time. Intrestin." He didn't bother looking to Jones's face to read his reaction; he often couldn't read the face anyway. It would only let Jones know how nervous he was.

Apparently it was a bit of a sore spot, because Jones's moustache wriggled and he snapped, "Well I didn't choose these men for their scintillating personalities" with a little more bite than was usual.

Jones had – and frequently used – the power to realize Barbossa's worst nightmares. Yet here Barbossa was antagonizing him. The situation made him extremely uncomfortable, and Jack (the monkey), with his usual sensitivity to his master's emotional state, scampered over to climb up his coat and sit on his shoulder.

The monkey's warm and slightly smelly weight made Barbossa feel better immediately. That decided him.

"Could I ask a favor?"

Davy Jones looked like someone had spoken to him in a foreign language. "Beg pardon...You said you want to ask me to do a favor for you?"

"A completely innocuous one," Barbossa assured him. "You mentioned that you might happen to know the whereabouts of a certain sunken stone chest..."

"I might."

Barbossa reached into Jack's collar and snapped the chain he wore around his little neck. "Then next time you pass by it, would you be so kind as to drop this in?"

The medallion was already smeared with blood and ready to go.

"That," Jones said after a moment, "Is so sweet it's revolting." He snorted and huffed and then held out his hand. "Oh, give it over here. I'll do it. But you owe me."

"Well I'll be sure to send some flowers or bake ye a cake," Barbossa snapped back. Then he winked. "Jack thanks ye."

Always quick to know when he was being talked about, Jack jumped up and down on Barbossa's shoulder and made some noises. Davy Jones held out his claw thoughtfully, and the monkey punctuated his chattering by drumming on it.

"D'yeh think one of those would survive here on the _Dutchman_?" Jones wondered aloud.

"Being that your ship spends half its time underwater, I'd say probably not." Barbossa scooped Jack up protectively and took a step back. "And you can't keep this one to try it."

Jones left, muttering something about pirates with flowers in their hair. Barbossa _yarrr_ed at his back.

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TBC.

Fear not, friends, Barbossa is not losing his edge, I promise. Fear not, also, on account of Lord Beckett's fascination: I have made it a point til now to have Elizabeth kiss everybody, but I think this time she will draw the line.

Thanks so much to the people who have stuck with this story so far and who have responded with encouraging and inspiring comments. Three or four in particular who've written numerous detailed reviews that make me smile…you know who you are, I'm not going to name names in case I'm forgetting one…You guys are great, I hope the story continues to amuse you!


	23. Jack gets a bloody nose

A/N: Cracking up at the idea of a ship pulled by undead seahorses! Why did I not think of that? That is DEFINITELY something Jack would have come up with. You're awesome.

And the sea monkey for Davy Jones's shoulder... yeah that me laugh out loud at work. In the words of Jack... Not good! _Not good_!

I was away this weekend, but don't worry, I'm back now, so updates will be back on schedule :o)

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Governor Swann paced about the cabin into which he had been locked. The selfsame cabin, he'd been told, into which Elizabeth had once been locked when she was kidnapped by pirates half a lifetime ago.

So much had changed since then. Now she wore _britches_, for Heaven's sake, ran about _embracing _pirates like a common- well, he would not think that. He would not, not even after having picked her up smelling of rum and smoke after a night alone on an island in the company of Jack Sparrow. There had only been one campfire on that island, not two, and he had always refused to consider what that might mean.

Not after she had run off, alone, to live on a ship full of…

In any case. This had been her cabin, he thought, moving around it and touching the fixtures daintily. It really was beautiful. Decrepit, but somehow in an enchanting sort of way.

Swann was torn from his thoughts when the door burst open. "We're being followed," Will Turner said tightly. "We can handle whomever it is, but...Governor, you might not want to watch. Stay here until I tell you it's safe." He rushed out again, and Swann went to the doorway. From there, he could just make out sails on the horizon. Whose sails? It was hard to tell. Should he go back into the cabin? No, he decided to stay in the doorway, where he was - it seemed a little less cowardly than _actually _hiding, while reserving the possibility of changing his mind and ducking inside.

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"He fancies you."

Elizabeth turned around. Jack was awake, sitting up against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. She elected to ignore his comment. "Your lip's bleeding again."

He touched it and shrugged. "I think I've had worse." They both laughed, but he wouldn't let her be distracted. "I mean it, love. You've put a spell on that little bugger, he's been sitting here watching you sleep again."

"Sleep, what sleep? Every time we go to sleep someone wakes us. You look terrible."

"Oh, thank you." Jack decided not to tell her that nobody minded when _she _slept – it was only when _he _dozed off too that someone always came barging in. By now they were both feeling the need for a good night's rest, in a bed, without interruption. Jack wondered whether he was still capable of thinking up a new plan, or whether he should just go ahead and use a trick that had worked before. How stupid was Beckett really? Jack shook his head. His mind was wandering again. He needed a nap.

Elizabeth was not happy to have another admirer. "Ugh."

"Not ugh." Jack leaned forward and fluttered his eyelashes at her. He pitched his voice high. "_Oh_. Tee hee. Lord Beckett, you mustn't."

"_No._" The idea had already crossed her mind, of course, but she had her limits. "Why don't _you _seduce Beckett, why must it always be me?"

She didn't seem to be joking, so Jack explained, "I don't really think I'm his type." He searched for a way to make the idea seem more palatable. "Come on, Lizzie, you don't have to seduce him – just get him to tell you how he plans to have the heart guarded on Isla Cruces. I already made him tell me how it's guarded on the ship."

"How?"

"No." Jack sat back. "First you make nice to him, find out something, and then we'll trade."

"Jack, it's not a game! And I'm not going to _make nice _to Lord Beckett! Now you need to play straight with me, or I'll…I'll blacken your other eye to match."

"You can't."

Elizabeth was truly offended. "Jack Sparrow, how dare you doubt me! You have no idea the things I would do to-"

"I didn't say you _wouldn't,_" Jack corrected, "I said you _can't_." He stood up and looked down at her. "Savvy?"

Elizabeth was cold and hungry. Not to mention frightened and incarcerated and completely exhausted. She was not exactly thinking at her best, so it didn't occur to her that her sudden rage was completely out of proportion to what Jack was saying to her. It also never crossed her mind that Jack might be antagonizing her on purpose. "_Do not_ try to intimidate me." She stood, too, on tiptoe to reduce his height advantage. "Norrington's men shot me, Barbossa whipped me, I saw my fiancé killed before my eyes, I kissed Davy Jones himself on the mouth-"

"-Or whatever he calls it," Jack put in.

She shoved him. "And now _you _cannot scare me. I have had it up to _here _with people trying to push me around!"

Oddly enough, Jack looked pleased with her. "So everyone gets their crack at the indomitable Miss Elizabeth Swann, but not me? Now, that's not fair, love, is it?" He caught her hands when she tried to push him again, and forced her across the cell to the far wall, in the shadows.

"Jack, stop it."

"But I thought you weren't afraid." Jack put his lips right by her ear and whispered, "Before you tell me I can't scare you, you do have to let me try." He licked her.

"_Jack_!" she shouted, horrified. She struggled wildly and managed to bash him in the face with the top of her head. He staggered back and put his hand to his nose. Blood was everywhere. She froze and before she thought better of it breathed, "Jack I'm sorry…"

Jack growled, grabbed her, and spun around to slam her against the cell door. It clanged but not quite loudly enough to drown out her squealing. He tried it again. Elizabeth screamed and fought mindlessly for a moment, until Jack yanked her back away from the light.

Then she could hear the grind of keys in the lock and the stamp of boots. Men were pulling them apart, holding them away from each other, and when everything was finally still Beckett stepped up. "What went on here?"

"Lovers' quarrel," Jack answered immediately.

Elizabeth lunged for him again. When the soldiers prevented her from reaching him, she hissed, "Oh, you wish."

He made a face at her. Beckett looked from one to the other, noted that all the blood seemed to be Sparrow's, and said, "Clearly they can't be left alone with each other. Take her to my room. And someone stay to help teach Sparrow the code of conduct on my ship."

Jack winced. He had rather hoped another beating was not in the cards, but other than that, the incident was a brilliant success. Elizabeth was shaken but angry. She needed someone to pour out her feelings to. It was just the sort of thing Beckett would like, and Jack would be extremely surprised if Beckett didn't confide some secrets of his own during the conversation. _What an idiot, he'll fall for that one every time._ Jack gave himself a moment to gloat, before beginning the work of damage control with regard to the two very beefy and angry-looking soldiers Beckett had left him for company.

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This time Beckett poured two drinks and gave Elizabeth her own. "I suppose given the amount of blood you coaxed from Sparrow, it would be an insult to ask you if you're all right?"

"I'm fine." She kept her eyes on her glass.

"I'm glad to hear it." He held out a chair for her, but then instead of sitting down behind his desk, he perched on top of it. The proximity made Elizabeth nervous without really knowing why. "May I ask what really happened?"

She looked up at him. "You may _ask_, but I'm not…" But then she felt suddenly sick and tired of controlling her tongue and her feelings and everything else, all for the sake of _pirates _who couldn't even handle a disagreement civilly when all was said and done. "Jack thinks just because I'm not yet married that it's all right for me to- to do all sorts of things," she explained. She was speaking before thinking and she knew it, but right now she was just too angry to care. "And how many times have I told everyone that I love Will and I'd never do anything to hurt him!"

Beckett liked the fire in her eyes. "But if he doesn't know-"

"But _I'll _know! That's what Jack doesn't understand, that I have a conscience and it matters to me what I-" she sighed. "Oh, never mind. Conscience isn't _your _strong point either, is it."

"On the contrary, I'm very concerned with conscience," Beckett corrected with a smile. "I just don't happen to have one of my own."

She surprised herself by laughing a little. Then, because he had lifted her mood even that tiny bit, she decided she owed him something of a warning. "Davy Jones is going to have your head, you know that."

If Beckett was trying not to look smug, he was failing miserably. "Oh, I think I can handle Captain Davy Jones," he assured her. "I have his heart, and I've given a lot of thought as to how I can protect it. I'm a reasonable man, you know, Miss Swann. Jones might be upset with me now, but he'll soon learn that it takes very little to please me. Sink a few vessels here and there, fair weather for a few others, once in a blue moon he may need to make an appearance in that monstrosity he calls _ship_, but all in all, I think he'll find it infinitely simpler just to obey me when I call. And then we'll get along fine."

"I suppose." She finished her drink – wine, she realized too late – and he poured her another. This one she put down and made a mental note not to touch. It would not do to get free and easy around Lord Beckett, and especially not to let him think he was seducing her. No more wine.

A pause. "You haven't asked me how I intend to keep the heart from Jones's dark clutches," he reminded her after a bit. It stung to have to grovel for her attention, but he couldn't help himself.

She stared at him in amazement. _He's going to tell me, just like that_? And then a moment later, _Jack planned this whole thing, didn't he._ She gulped and tried to put her thoughts in order.

"Miss Swann?"

"_Elizabeth_, please," she said with a short laugh, playing for time. "Look at me." She gestured at her messy appearance, an invitation for Beckett to ogle at her even more openly than he had been doing.

"Elizabeth, then," Becket said softly. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing." In a flash an explanation came to her. "I just…no offence, but I'm not completely sure you'll get the best of Jones. And the more I know of your plans, the worse he's going to treat me when he catches us all."

"Ahhh." He _tsk_ed at her. "Have a little faith, M-… Elizabeth." Beckett waited until she looked up at him. Her cheeks were still flushed... but he didn't deceive himself, that was probably a result of the little spat with her cellmate… and her clothes in even greater disarray than when she first came aboard. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do. I think you'll agree that Davy Jones has no idea who he's dealing with."

She sat back and crossed her arms. "All right," she said, smiling wryly because once again Jack had gotten the better of her. "Let's hear it."

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The next day Beckett cut himself and bled into the sea, and Davy Jones was as quick as ever in responding to the summons.

A mere hour later the _Dutchman _surfaced, and Beckett opened his spyglass and invited Jones over. He didn't give another thought to the rest of the ship, which is why he didn't notice the one human being among the fish-people, signaling back and forth with Jack Sparrow to try and figure out what was going on.

"Have you been to Port Royal yet, or is the place still intact?" Beckett demanded.

"What?" Jones cocked his head. "I haven't...I mean, what do you..."

Beckett misinterpreted the confusion in his voice. "Yes, I know all about your little lies and schemes," he said coolly. "And rest assured, Norrington will get what's coming to him, the same as you will. But for now... Listen carefully. I have instructions for you."

The squidman's wreath of tentacles coiled angrily, but he wasn't nearly stupid enough to let pride get in his way now. "I'm listening," he growled.

"Pirates have come and gone from Port Royal who know far too much," Beckett explained. "I don't know who it was, but the captain of their ship is a man I want very badly to meet. So. I want you to find that ship." He considered. "Kill the rest, but keep that captain for me. Then you are to meet me at the usual place. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Jones didn't quite have the hang yet of sounding servile, but Beckett was sure he would learn quickly.

"Good," Beckett said. "While you're gone, I will be going off to begin construction of a new safe hiding place for my treasure - one that's really safe, this time. If I see you, your ship, or those _pirates _anywhere near where I'm building, I shall take it as a sign that you are breaking our treaty, and I'll kill you. Understood?"

This time Jones simply nodded.

Beckett absolutely _hated _what he was about to do, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed that having Jack Sparrow around while the heart was in such a vulnerable position was a bad idea. A terrible idea, in fact. Until everything was one hundred percent in place, the further away Jack Sparrow was, the better.

So he gave orders for the prisoners to be brought up on deck and handed over to the _Dutchman _for temporary safekeeping.

"I'll want them back later on, alive" he told Davy Jones. "Even Sparrow. I suppose you can have your fun with him if you like in the meantime, as a gift for your cooperation. But Miss Swann is not to be touched, do you hear me?"

Beckett wanted to get started on taming Elizabeth as soon as possible, and just in case a stint on that ghost ship didn't do the trick, there were other ways. Of course it wouldn't do for her to hear the order come from _him_, though, so he took Jones aside and whispered it: "When you do catch me that pirate captain, if you feel the need to harm him in any way..." He glanced over at Elizabeth. "Just be sure that she watches."

Jack stuck his tongue out at Lord Beckett as he left the ship.

But a few moments later, he was on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman _and Beckett's ship was pulling away. He smelled something very fishy and bad over his shoulder. He doubted that it would go away if he just stayed still, so he finally turned around. Davy Jones was grinning at him from a distance of about six inches.

Jack decided, too late, that he should have found a way to stay in Beckett's cell.

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TBC.

Sometimes I think the plot of my story is too crazy and convoluted… And then I think of the wheel scene in DMC and I think nothing I come up with can possibly be too crazy for Pirates.


	24. Davy Jones plays for keeps

"Er…hello?" Jack hazarded.

Jones snorted. "Enjoy your last few minutes – I'm not dealing with you now. I have some things to discuss first. With _her_. In private."

Thrilled to see Barbossa alive, Elizabeth had been chatting away with him. But when Jones said something about discussing things with her, Barbossa stopped talking and looked away. She frowned. "What did you tell him?" she hissed, trying not to jump to conclusions.

But Jones was too close now and he would overhear, so Barbossa just shrugged.

Jones took her aside. He was going to speak to her right there up on deck, which made Elizabeth extremely happy – she wasn't quite feeling up to another encounter in his lair just yet. "Yes?"

"You. Lied. To me."

"I didn't lie," she answered before she even knew what he was talking about.

"About your Navy man."

Oh. "That...that wasn't a lie," she protested, not sounding convincing even to herself. "I mean, you didn't ask for the truth. You asked for a story."

"Be that as it may, you got me thinking." He stared into her face. "I can't imagine what would make you put yourself in harm's way for him."

She shrugged. "I liked him. I honestly did feel badly about leaving him. And you were going to kill him for no good reason." He hesitated, so Elizabeth took the initiative. "Speaking of people you killed for no good reason…what are you going to do to Jack?"

"Ah, yes, Jack," he said as though he'd forgotten. "I'm going to make him wish he'd stayed in the Kraken's belly." He raised his voice without looking. "Brig!"

Jack mouthed _help_! as two fish-people dragged him away. "Beckett's going to want him back, remember?" Elizabeth said.

"Beckett is going to be dead, remember?"

Elizabeth tried something else. "Well, it's hardly fair, you're not giving him a sporting chance," she complained. "Why not at least let him play you at Deception for it?" Barbossa had told her that Jack was absolutely unbeatable.

But perhaps Jones had heard the same legends - he didn't bite. "Jack was given me as a gift," he reminded her. "He's got nothing to wager, I already own him."

Barbossa decided it was time to get involved before Elizabeth got in over her head. "Would you just tell us what you have planned for him?" he asked, annoyed. "Before she gets all worked up for nothing."

Jones turned to him. "I want Sparrow's life and whatever comes beyond," he answered. "But I'll let you two play me for it, if you like." He could practically smell their indecision and their fear. Would they really be willing to risk everything - their very _souls_ - for Jack bloody Sparrow?

Elizabeth spoke first. "I do owe Jack a life," she reminded Barbossa slowly.

"Well I don't. If anything, Jack owes one to me."

"I know I can't ask you to-"

"That's right, you can't," he said shortly. He saw that she was about to cry.

"But I think we can win," she whispered.

He wasn't so sure, but he _was _sure that if she tried to play on her own, without her sneaky trick of last time, she would lose. And then he, of course, would have to play Jones solo, because he couldn't just _leave _her here to a fate he wouldn't even wish on meddlesome old Bill Turner. He, too, would lose – neither of them alone was a match for Davy Jones.

"I agree we should help Jack out, but I don't agree that betting for it is the best idea. Davy, what else can we offer you?"

Jones laughed. "Nothing."

Right. He was sure that given a few minutes to think they could come up with something. "Then how much time can we take to think about it?"

"None," Jones answered immediately, sick of cutting these people slack. "We play here and now, or I go below and hack Sparrow to pieces. Very slowly."

Elizabeth seized Barbossa's arm. "Captain, no! We can't let him-"

Barbossa shook her off. He wanted to rake her over the coals for her behavior; Jones now had excellent leverage over them both and knew it. She had put them in a terrible position. It was as rash as something Will Turner might have done. But he knew that if he shouted at her it would only make her nervous… And considering she would be his ally in the game he was about to play, where his eternal life itself was at stake...he wanted her at her best.

"All right," he said, "Here and now, Davy Jones, let's play."

He gave Elizabeth a smile, and was mildly reassured when she smiled back. They could do this. Maybe.

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"One three," said Barbossa, who had no threes.

"Two fives," said Elizabeth, who only had one.

Davy Jones had all ones and threes. "Three twos."

They all looked at each other for a moment. Barbossa took a deep breath and started "F-" then paused. "_Three _fours."

Elizabeth noted how he had started to say "four" and then changed to "three." Probably, she reasoned, that meant he had considered bluffing and then played it safe. If he actually _had _three fours, then, since she had three herself, six fours should be a safe bet. "Six fours."

Barbossa whipped around to face her before he could help himself. Six fours? What in God's name was she thinking, making such a crazy guess already? Even _if _she had five herself... he had none, and how could they know what Jones was holding...

Jones caught his panicked look and laughed softly. "It appears we've found ourselves a bluff already. Elizabeth Swann, you're lying, and you lose." That quickly, he flipped all the cups, and it was over.

Elizabeth's stomach dropped out. _No. Nononono. _She sank down in her seat and put her head in her hands. Someone - Barbossa, presumably - put a hand on the back of her neck, but it was as cold and clammy as she was, and not very reassuring.

The world spun. "I'm fainting," she mumbled. She fainted.

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Barbossa caught her, dazed himself. "Well, well," Jones said. "And now, are _you _going to do the noble thing, and offer to trade me yourself for her?"

"Absolutely not," Barbossa answered right away. He felt physically sick; it was his mistake that had cost them the game and now Elizabeth was going to pay for it. _But better her than me, _he reminded himself. "You know how I feel about this ship; you know that's not a possibility." He paused. "But I'd trade you _something _for her. What do you want?" Elizabeth seemed to be waking up, and although Barbossa deemed it unwise to pet her hair he couldn't help it.

Jones banged his claw down on the table. "I want all of you, because you all make me ill!" Elizabeth cowered even further into Barbossa's arms, which made things worse. "Now let _go_ of her – she belongs to _me_!"

He gestured to two fish-people, who pried Elizabeth up and pulled her away. She was whimpering and trying to hang on.

Enough was enough! "You stay right there," Barbossa barked to the fishmen. They froze for a second, looking to Jones for orders. "That was a mistake, Davy," he drawled. "I might've been able to walk away, but now you've gone and woken up me…protective instincts. I must say, that was a bad idea." He reached for his knife and told the man with a puffer-fish head: "She goes back where ye found her, or I'll pop ye."

Jones nodded for the puffer-fish-man to obey, then scooped up his dice and put them in his cup. "Bad idea yourself, Barbossa" he snapped, both glad and annoyed at this new development. He laughed. "Now you're putting your own soul on the line. I hate to insult you, but it's something Will Turner might have done."

"Unless I'm mis-recallin something, Will Turner got the best of you last time," Barbossa reminded mildly. "Now, I'll play on the one condition: Elizabeth plays too. You beat either one of us and you win. If I beat you, you lose her, Jack, and me as well."

Elizabeth roused herself enough to gasp, "No, Captain, I lost the last one, I'll only throw you off-"

"Shh. I want you to play." Davy Jones would absorb every word, he knew, so all he told her was, "You'll be fine. Just remember what I told ye about bein cautious."

He set her on her chair and loaded her dice for her. Elizabeth was frowning and thinking. She _always _listened when Barbossa talked to her, she ate up every word. But cautious? She was sure he had neversaid anything about being cautious. What did he mean now?

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Elizabeth started out. "T-two twos," she said quietly. Staring downwards at her cup.

Jones laughed at her newfound timidity. Cautious indeed! She was so rattled she would probably refuse to take any risks at all. That would make this very easy for him. "Three twos," he said. He was playing conservatively. No bluffing this time, just playing it straight and waiting. Barbossa was so nervous it took him serious effort not to throw up all over the Deception board, and he was not doing a good job of hiding it. The first lie he told, Jones would pounce on him and it would all be over.

Barbossa glanced over at Elizabeth. She was staring at him, holding her breath.

He stared back. _What's in your head?_

Apparently, Jones had swallowed the garbage he had spewed about "caution." Jones must believe Elizabeth was being cautious and telling the truth, or he would have called her liar immediately. Therefore, his prediction of three two's included the two he believed Elizabeth had.

Now, Elizabeth might be terrified, and confused by a hint that made no sense, but Barbossa would like to believe he had taught her better than to tell Davy Jones the truth in the very first round. This wasn't Will Turner he was playing with, after all! Elizabeth knew his game, and had been setting Jones up.

He hoped.

Barbossa spread his hands out flat on the table, to stop them shaking, and leaned forward. "You're a liar, Davy."

Jones snorted. "We'll see about that." He reached out and flipped over Barbossa's cup. No twos there. He flipped up his own: four fours and a two. Barbossa couldn't watch as Elizabeth's dice were revealed.

She did it herself.

3...3...1...2..._1_.

Barbossa's eyes were still closed when she launched herself at him to give him a hug.

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"Now, _I _own Jack Sparrow. Let him out, Davy, would you?" Barbossa said over Elizabeth's shoulder. She was still shaking.

Jack was brought up. He took in the strange scene: dice scattered everywhere, fish-people in a speechless crowd, Elizabeth gathered up in a weepy heap on Barbossa's lap. "Um."

"You're a free man, Jack," Barbossa said wearily.

"Was I not?" But he saw the glare and got serious. "All right then. What now – where are we going?"

"I've no idea," Barbossa answered. "You're going to sit down with Davy, tell him what's going on, and plan out our next move. _Now_," he added, when Jack seemed reluctant. Jack and Davy went below, the both of them unusually docile.

Barbossa knew there would be a real earful for him later, but for now he was glad that everybody had just gone away and left him alone.

An hour later, when Jack and Davy Jones had come back up on deck, he was still so drained that he barely registered Davy's instructions: "I'll have to take us down, it's faster. So get you to the dry room – the three of you."

He let Jack and Elizabeth propel him down the ladder and to the door. Jones opened it and ushered them inside. "Sweet dreams, duckies," he growled, slamming the door and locking it.

Barbossa looked around. Three people. One bed – _his _bed. Like hell was he going to be robbed of it! He felt for his knife.

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TBC.

Apologies for the chapter being short. The next one is longer and a damn sight sillier, too. I've decided about Beckett's fate in the end. I think I like him more than I used to. The jury is still out on Davy Jones, though.

Leave me some love! And look out tomorrow for the co-ed slumber party update. Hehe, I'm excited.


	25. Jack takes off his clothes

Elizabeth looked from Jack to Barbossa and back again. "This is so improper there's not even anything to say. How are we supposed to manage this?"

Barbossa just shrugged at her. He had gotten possession of himself enough to let go of his knife, but that was as far as he was going to go towards being helpful. He stood off to the side to let the others figure it out.

Jack decided to make the best of the situation. "How about he sleeps on the floor, and you and I can share the bed."

"What? N-No!" Elizabeth stuttered.

Ever the reasonable one, Jack made a second offer: "All right, then, age before beauty - _he _can have the bed, and you and I will take the floor."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think so, Jack. The two of you can be gentlemen and share the floor, and let me sleep in the bed. Alone."

"Oh, but then I don't get _anything _nice," Jack complained. Barbossa attempted to silence him with a glare, but it had the opposite effect. "You know, I think he could do with a few minutes to feel better," Jack observed. "_Better _in this case meaning: less... _dragonlike_. Sit down, mate."

They all settled down on the floor and passed around a bottle of a substance that was either weak rum or very bad wine.

First Elizabeth poured out the story of the Deception game. She apologized again and again for losing the first round, and Barbossa was not in a generous enough mood to assure her that it had not been her fault. So she started apologizing to Jack instead, for hitting him in the nose on Beckett's ship, and felt better when _he_, at least, was responsive. "No harm done, love," he said, telling the truth for a change. She hadn't even broken it. Perhaps he would have to teach her how to do it better next time? "Out of curiosity... did you have any idea what I was doing?"

"No. No idea," she admitted. "You can be a lunatic sometimes, Jack."

"Sometimes?" Barbossa muttered. "And the other times, he's the very soul of reason."

"Of course," Jack agreed, "Not to mention her inspiration and her better half, a dashing and infinitely intelligent-"

"Oh, very funny."

After that, civilized conversation reigned. Jack let it go on for a bit, because he knew his friends needed to thaw out after their harrowing near-un-death experience, but soon he was just too bored and decided to make things more interesting. He stood up, stretched out his back, and pulled his shirt over his head.

"What kind of foolishness be this?" demanded Barbossa.

Jack acted surprised by his surprise. "Oh, I always sleep naked," he explained.

Elizabeth threw a shoe at him lazily. "Put it back on, Jack, it's hard enough already." It wasn't until both pirates looked at her in surprise that she backtracked and realized what she had just said. Oh. Whoops.

It was funny enough to interrupt Barbossa' brooding. "And here I thought ye immune to the force of other people's... _personality_," he teased.

She tossed her hair back haughtily. "I am."

"Is that so." His posture was completely relaxed but his stare intense.

A strange thing happened then: for no apparent reason, Elizabeth blushed crimson and dropped her eyes to the ground. Hoping Barbossa hadn't noticed, she looked back at him, and discovered that not only had he marked her momentary disturbance, he also seemed to be aware of the outlandish and totally unwelcome thoughts that had just sped through her mind. But there was no way he could know! "Ridiculous," she said aloud, and stood up.

He stood too, chuckling when she edged away. "Tables have turned, I see." He backed her all the way across the room with slow, measured steps. "We'll have to marry you off as soon as possible," he whispered. "Before... someone... _persuades_... you." He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

"S-Stop it." Paralyzed by a feeling that was very like fear but wasn't, Elizabeth kept going until she bumped into the wall behind her. When even that collision was not enough to help her move, Barbossa stepped away a little and held his arm out in a mocking _after you, ma'am _gesture.

She took the hint and fled to the far side of the little cabin, watching the two pirates, feeling very much like a lion trainer who had accidentally locked herself in the cage. Her heart was beating in her throat.

And then Jack shattered all the tension in the room with one well-placed remark. "Or, I could always take the floor, and leave you two the bed," he suggested, examining his fingernails.

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "That's not funny. Everybody go away and leave me alone." She decided to sleep fully dressed that night, although she knew both of them had at one time or another served her as a pillow while she was en chemise. Why take chances, she thought. Neither pirate mentioned her sudden excess of modesty.

They fought good-naturedly over floor space and then for a while it was quiet.

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But Jack still didn't like the idea of being asleep on this ship, where God only knew what happened to you the minute you closed your eyes, so he looked for a way to drum up some more excitement.

"This is cozy. Almost reminds you of that night we spent in Tortuga that time, Barbossa, eh?"

Barbossa growled deep in his throat. "Ever bring that up again, Jack Sparrow, and I'll kill you."

Elizabeth sat up in bed, not feeling much like sleeping. "Bring what up?"

"Ooh, you've never heard the story!" Jack sat up too. "It's not really a story for ladies' ears, you know. But for you…Lizzie…I'll make an exception." He seemed delighted at the chance to tell. He started off, ignoring the continuous stream of Barbossa's threats and warnings. "Once upon a time, a young and starry-eyed Jack Sparrow admitted to his dear old captain that he'd never, ahem, made full use of the most well-known facilities of Tortuga, shall we say, and in fact had never known a wench at all. So, his heart full of goodwill and pity for the poor lad, said captain decided to take him out for a night on the town. And what a night it was!"

"Enough, Jack," Barbossa barked.

"It's still a bit of a touchy subject with him," Jack observed, as though Barbossa weren't even in the room. "But anyway, the brave pair went out and proceeded to overindulge in drink - I mean _really _overindulge, love, to the point of we had very little idea what went on from there. Well. One member of the pair remembers feeling so shy about his first time - and so unable to walk on his own, actually - that he entreated the other member to accompany him to the room with his girl." His tone dropped a little. "Well. This individual also thinks he remembers-"

"Enough, Jack!" Barbossa repeated. He didn't sit up or take his eyes off the ceiling. Perhaps Jack would shut up if the story were spoiled by the punch line arriving too soon: "I woke up the next morning," he snapped, "with no idea where me clothes were, in a bed, alone, with _Jack_. Whose clothes were also nowhere to be found. And there you have it."

Jack's eyes sparkled. "I swear there was a girl, mate." Elizabeth thought his voice had never sounded so deep or so enticing. She half-wished he would talk about something else, and half-wished he would keep to the subject of girls forever. "She must have woke up and left before we did. I swear."

Barbossa muttered something under his breath but Elizabeth couldn't quite catch it.

"Sounds like a wonderful time." She meant it to be sarcastic but wasn't sure she managed. "Yo ho and all that. A pirate's life for me."

Barbossa refrained from making any comments, so Jack elbowed him in the ribs and in a loud stage whisper assured him, "I'll say it for you." He raised his voice and gave a passable imitation of Barbossa's gutteral lilt. "Don't tempt us, miss."

Barbossa reached for the booze bottle and slammed it hard into Jack's stomach. Jack exaggerated the retching noise and curled up on his side.

"You're like little children," Elizabeth laughed. "My goodness! Go to sleep."

But she hoped with all her heart that they would not - she was having more fun than she could remember in a long time.

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They went to sleep then, but two hours later Jack awoke. He had been having a nightmare about drowning, and when he tore himself out of it and opened his eyes, he found that he was, in fact, actually drowning. The floor was a good six inches deep in water, and Jack was soaked completely through.

He jumped up. Barbossa was awake already, standing, leaning against a wall. "In a minute I was going to have to dive in there and pull you out."

"You've got p-plenty of p-practice with that," Jack noted, teeth chattering. He took off his dripping shirt and tried to use it to towel himself off with. It didn't work. He was freezing and wet and had had just about one too many nights of sleep deprivation. "That's it – she's sh-sh-sharing the bed."

He sat back down in the water and struggled out of his boots. And then stood up and struggled out of his pants. "I'm f-freezing, mate."

Barbossa would have made Jack put the pants back on, except that he was too busy squinting at what Jack wore beneath. "Aren't those supposed to be for women?"

"Thanks kindly, but I don't n-n-need your opinion of me undergarments," Jack growled. He wrung out his hair. "Now, if you want to come in too, to sh-shelter the f-fragile M-M-Miss Elizabeth from big bad Jack S-Sparrow, you're welcome." He nudged Elizabeth. "'ey, you, shove over."

She mumbled sleepily and didn't move much. Barbossa pushed mostly-naked Jack out of the way, deciding that that was not a sight Elizabeth needed to wake up to. He sat down on the bed and kicked off his wet boots. He leaned against the wall in the corner, and Jack folded Elizabeth up and heaved her over to him. Without waking her all the way, they curled her up across the foot of the bed with her head in Barbossa's lap. Jack grinned. Too late Barbossa realized that this arrangement meant _he _would be sitting up the whole night, once again the sleepless victim of bed usurpation.

Jack thus had possession of nearly the entire mattress. Unfortunately there was an old and grumpy male pirate between him and Elizabeth, but it would have to do. He fluffed his pillow, pulled the blanket over himself, and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

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The first strange discovery Elizabeth made when she woke up was that she was squashed against the wall, and her pillow had been replaced with a pirate.

Next, she noticed that someone's cold feet had wormed their way under her shirt and were currently leaching the warmth from her stomach.

When she looked to see whom the cold feet belonged to, she made the most disturbing discovery yet. "Augh!" She shut her eyes tight. The feet were Jack's. Jack was naked.

She stole another look. All right, he was _almost _naked.

She never found out whether she would have gotten up or stayed to stare for a while - her pillow made the decision for her.

"Morning."

Elizabeth rolled over and looked up. "Morning. What's he doing in my bed? Come to think of it, what are you?"

"The floor flooded."

"Ah." She tried to keep a straight face, but after the Tortuga story it wasn't easy. "And dare I ask why Jack was sleeping next to you with no clothes on?"

"You _shouldn't_ dare, but apparently you do." He rolled his eyes. "Jack's clothes got wet and he was cold."

"Or so he told you."

"Or so he told me," Barbossa agreed. "It's hard to say how deep Jack's strange fascinations really run."

"Mmm." She hated to spoil the mood – she was comfortable and he was remarkably friendly for having spent a night as a pillow, but it had to be said. "Speaking of strange fascinations, I should warn you: for some reason, Lord Beckett's developed one for _you_."

"Beckett? For me?"

"Yes. He got the idea from somewhere that…well, I don't really know what he thinks, but's obsessed with you." Elizabeth grimaced. "He questioned me rather intensely about you when we were alone together."

"Are you all right?"

Trust a pirate to leap to the worst possible conclusions. "No, not like that, he didn't torture me. Just sat me down and questioned me intensely," she clarified. "I wouldn't tell him anything. It's none of his business where I learned to fight and swear."

"Well, he can add me to his list of enemies, then," Barbossa said with a dark smile. "If Davy doesn't get him, I will."

Elizabeth giggled. "Poor Lord Beckett."

"Aye."

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Will closed up the spyglass and started pacing. He knew that ship. Norrington's piratehunting ship. Likely Norrington was on it. Will had a plan, but it wouldn't work if Norrington realized exactly who he was dealing with. "_Gibbs_!" Will ripped off his shirt and mussed his hair. "Go find where Jack keeps all that paint for his face. And get me a hat - a big one."

"Aye cap'n."

Will very nearly corrected him; two captains at a time was more than enough for this crazy ship. But he liked the sound of it, and anyway there were more important things to attend to. He seized another pirate - one whose name he hadn't bothered to learn, some captain - and ordered him to bring up the captives they had taken from Port Royal.

Will decided he would have more credibility with the prisoners if he addressed them _before_ he put on his war paint. "Ladies and gentlemen, listen carefully." He sounded so much more civilized than the crude and filthy pirates who had guarded them thus far, that the captives all got quiet for him at once.

"I'm going to need volunteers," Will said, "Women and children if possible. They must be able to swim."

"Swim?" one of the little boys echoed. "Are you going to throw us overboard?"

"Er, actually...I mean...yes," Will admitted.

The boy looked delighted. "Will we get to walk the plank?"

Will scooped him up and spun him around. "Of course!" He mirrored the child's enthusiasm. "Won't that be fun?"

A woman pushed through the pirates on deck and threw herself at him. "You put down my son! Put him down!"

Will held her off with one arm and set the boy down with the other. "Madam, please, I'm not going to hurt your son. We just need something to distract the other ship with. If they're busy fishing civilians out of the water, then the battle will be much shorter and less bloody, for all of us."

"And what if they don't fish us out of the water?" another prisoner called. "Then what? We drown?"

Will held up his hands for quiet. "From what I know of Norrington, he will not be able to stand by and let a pack of innocent people die." He paused. "And even if he could, I cannot. Listen to me: you have my word that if that ship does not begin saving you as soon as they see you, I will lower boats and we will do it ourselves."

"But that would cost you the battle," scoffed the plank enthusiast's mother.

"Yes," Will agreed simply. "This is a risk. I'm gambling with our lives. I won't gamble with yours." He looked to the crowd. "Now: do I have any volunteers, or not?"

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After he had selected enough plank-walkers and explained their role to them, Will turned his attention to his ragtag crew. Some of them were bums fresh off the streets of Port Royal, some had been hired for the trip to World's End and still had most of their limbs, others had been recruited by Jack after that incident with the Aztec curse, and still others were veterans from Barbossa's ten-year graveyard shift.

He closed his eyes. "Were any of you there when Barbossa took the _Interceptor_?"

He heard a reassuring number of _aye_'s and continued. "Any of the gunners?"

Two pirates said yes. Will opened his eyes and reminded them, "You demasted her on your first try." He took a deep breath. "Is that a feat you can perform again?"

The two of them looked at each other and grinned. "Ten years of practice."

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Will made a model to make sure he was explaining himself. "That shoe...that be us?" Gibbs scratched his head.

"Yes. We're going to bring her about, and come in at an angle - this way, see?"

"That other shoe...that be them?"

"Yes." Will moved the shoes a little. "No gunfight, is that clear? We must not get in the way of her cannons."

"But Will, we could take her," Gibbs insisted.

"Not without risking damage to the _Pearl_." Will started painting up his face like a savage while he talked - it would not do to have Norrington recognize him; they knew each other too well. Norrington would know that with Will in charge, the pirates had no intention of letting the prisoners drown, and would probably not waste his time rescuing them.

"Aside from what Jack would say to me if I hurt his darling," Will explained, "the problem is we'll soon end up fighting whatever Beckett sends after us...which could include the _Flying Dutchman_, and therefore possibly even the you-know-what. So we have to be in good condition to make for the shallows as fast as possible - we can't start out with putting holes in our ship already."

Gibbs nodded. "I'll only put us in harm's way so far as we need to to get off that one little volley."

"Exactly. Once she's demasted..."

"Sitting duck." Gibbs took a drink. "I like it."

He still didn't get it. "No, even better," Will explained. "She's not just a sitting duck, she's a _crippled _duck. Once their ship's not fit to sail home, they _can't _damage ours - they need it. Norrington knows his only chance will be to fight us hand to hand and win the _Pearl _for himself."

Now he got it. Gibbs laughed raucously and slapped Will on the back. "Take the _Pearl _for himself? Take her from the hands of pirates? That's a good one. Over our dead bodies, boy."

"Yes." Will settled a big feathered hat on his head, sure that Norrington would never recognize him from a distance. "That's what he's hoping."

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TBC.

Oh man, I'm excited for this. I don't know how the battle turns out yet. I guess I'll just start writing and whatever happens, happens.


	26. Norrington loses his temper

A word about Will's plan to protect the _Pearl _by making it Norrington's only escape route: I know nothing about strategy for naval battles, I can't even fire a cannon, and my entire knowledge of a ship's anatomy comes from the appendix of a kids' book called _The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle. _(I ripped out the appendix from my school library's copy in sixth grade. I can't remember now what I wanted it for. It was a good book and I named the OC in this chapter after its heroine.) Therefore, when it comes to anything involving how ships are sailed or fought, I know NOTHING. However, as a blacksmith, neither does Will. So if any of Will's ideas don't make any sense, that's fine, because he probably doesn't know any better either.

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"Help! Help me," Charlotte shouted, treading water in her underclothes. This was without doubt the strangest day of her life. First, her family had been woken up in the middle of the night by pirates breaking into her house. They had been kidnapped, because her son hadn't been able to resist sneaking down to get a better look at them. If her husband had been home he would have kept the boy upstairs, she knew. But he was away, and Charlotte by herself hadn't been able to stop the child before the pirates spotted them.

So they had been taken as captives. And then the most beautiful pirate God ever created had picked up her son and given him a hug. This pirate had then ever so politely convinced her to jump overboard in order to help him take over somebody else's ship. She knew he could have just thrown her over the side, or forced her over with threats, but he had been a gentleman about it to every last detail. "There's something you need to understand, please," he'd told her earnestly. "I am not threatening you. I just want you to remember this: your son is still on my ship. The worse it goes for us, the bigger the risk to his life. If you share our plan with Norrington and he sinks us..."

She shook her head. "I've said I'll help you. Keep my son safe."

The pirate nodded, then blushed very adorably. "I hate to do this to you, but you're going to have to take your dress off."

"What!"

"My fiancée's been dropped into the ocean more than once, and she told me the dress makes the difference between floating and drowning."

Charlotte nodded, acutely disappointed to hear that he was betrothed. She stripped down to her underclothes - once her son was removed from the premises, of course - and stepped out on the plank. Just before she jumped, she thought to ask, "My name's Charlotte. What's yours?"

"Will. Good luck."

"Same to you, Will."

Charlotte was hauled shivering into a longboat. She was the first prisoner pulled out of the water, but would by no means be the last - there were already three others floundering and calling for help. And that dashing scoundrel Will probably wasn't finished dumping - he'd told her his idea was to scatter the drowners so that Norrington would have to send out more than one boat, wasting as many of his men as possible.

Someone draped a coat over her shoulders. "What happened?"

"P-P-Pirates," she explained. The tears were manufactured, but the shivering was not. "They robbed my house, took my son, and they tried to t-t-take advantage of me. That's why I jumped."

"Oh, God."

She threw herself, sobbing, into their arms. The longer they took to comfort her, the longer it would take them to round up the others and the longer it would be before they got back to the ship. "I didn't want to leave my son with them," she wailed. "But I c-couldn't let him see his mother..."

"No, of course not, you did the right thing," one of the men soothed. "We'll get him back for you."

They were so kind that Charlotte almost felt bad she was helping betray them.

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"Mama!" As the boats unloaded their refugees onto Norrington's ship, a little boy weaseled his way through the crowd and threw his arms around Charlotte. She gasped.

"Albert! What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, probably," one of the soldiers said. She was entitled to be a little confused, wasn't she, after what she had gone through. "The pirates must have thrown him overboard."

"But Will said he wouldn't-" Charlotte bit her tongue.

Their leader, a man called James Norrington about whom Charlotte had heard many strange stories, whipped around to face her. "_What was that?_"

"I..." She tried hard not to look guilty.

"Will, was it? You did just say _Will said_, did you not?" She remained silent and he stepped up very close to her. "If I get the impression that you _or your son _are in league with these pirates, I will hang you both. Right here, right now." She gasped and he held her still with just the intensity of his stare. "Now, answer me: one of the pirates, his name is Will?" When she still wouldn't speak, he called to his men without taking his eyes away: "Tie a noose; the boy goes first."

She could hardly breathe. "Yes, their leader," she babbled, "His name is Will. He's a young man, terribly handsome but scarred everywhere."

Norrington frowned. "Scarred?" Charlotte could see that something clearly didn't add up.

"Yes, all across his back and down his arm," she clarified, having done enough guilty staring to have memorized all of them. She put a hand to her neck. "Also one right here, as though somebody tried to cut his throat. Plus the scar of a bullet, in the chest."

_Not possible,_ Norrington thought. The last time he had seen Will Turner he had had none of these injuries. There simply hadn't been time between then and now for the man to take a shooting and a stabbing and have recovered from both.

"Tell me something else about this pirate," Norrington grated. He raised his voice. "Do it or the boy swings!"

"I- I don't know... He's betrothed!" she burst out. "And his fiancée's been thrown in the ocean and nearly drowned - more than once!"

"Does he have a scar on his palm - here?"

Little Albert spoke up from down below them. "Yes," he chirped. "I felt it when he held my hand. And I asked and he told me it was because he was fighting against a magic spell! I love him!" He looked worried all of a sudden. "Mama, please don't be mad that he let me walk the plank, he said I have two very important jobs to do. One is take care of you." He looked up at Norrington. "Are you the scary man in a wig? Do you have a very nice sword?"

Norrington grit his teeth. "Yes, that would be me."

"Then I have a secret for you." Norrington squatted down to be eye level with the boy. "I'm only supposed to tell you in case if you figure out who's in charge of the pirates, only if you figure it out all by yourself without me telling."

"Will Turner."

"Yes! So since you know, I'm supposed to tell you something." Albert looked delighted. "Captain Will says you can have the same deal as last time, _and _he also won't steal your food, if you run away a white flag."

"Run up, you mean?"

"Run up."

Norrington seethed. He looked over to the _Black Pearl, _which had come around and was so close now that he didn't even need a spyglass to make out most of its details. Her guns were out and the deck full of pirates. _His _men, meanwhile, were busy in the water fishing out traitors who were actually in league with these criminals!

And this _boy _was one of them. "Well you may tell _Captain Will_," he said, so angry that his voice was shaking, "That I offer _him _the same deal I got for Jack Sparrow!" He stood up and barked at one of his soldiers: "Pick him up!"

The man picked Albert up over his mother's loud protestations. "Over," Norrington said shortly.

"Over, sir?"

"Over." He pointed. "Let _Captain Will _fish him out." The soldier shrugged and, while his colleagues held a screaming Charlotte away, carried the boy over to the railing and dropped him over.

They could hear him scream _"Woohoooooo!_" all the way down.

Practically foaming at the mouth, Charlotte broke free and dove overboard herself. It was a long way down, and the impact knocked the wind out of her and confused her terribly. Where was Albert? Damn these soldiers _and _these pirates!

Finally she saw him, waving cheerily at her some distance behind. She wriggled out of the jacket the soldiers had covered her with, and started to swim towards her son.

"Mama! Look!" he called. She turned to look. Aside from the two boats that were still out rescuing prisoners from the sea, there were now also three or four loose soldiers in the water. She looked up at the ship and saw two more preparing to jump. They crashed into the sea, surfaced, and swum towards her.

"It's not right," one of them told her when they reached. "Throwing over a little bugger like that."

"Pardon his tongue, mum, but that's it exactly," agreed the other. "We came in after you to make sure you're all right til a boat gets to you. Others are coming, too. On principle, like. Nobody likes tossing over a little one to die."

Strong men thought they were, Charlotte noticed they were having a harder time staying afloat than she was.

"The coats," she gasped at them. "Take them off - I've been told it makes all the difference between swimming and drowning."

The _Pearl _was maneuvering oddly, coming in at an angle. Norrington tried to make sense out of what he was seeing. "There'll be no broadside like that," he murmured. "What does he think he's-" He had a bad feeling about this battle. "Hold fire for my signal," he ordered. "Forget those people in the water, get those boats back up here. Let everyone know that if any of my men are still wasting time with that _child_, I'll have them court-martialed. Is that clear?"

Four years as Norrington's right-hand man had taught Gilette when it was not wise to ask questions. "Aye aye, sir." He elected not to point out that nearly half their crew was busy - either helping with rescue efforts, diving overboard as a sign of protest, or working crowd control on the hysterical women and children who had been saved from the ocean. Gilette thought they would fare much better throwing themselves on the reliable mercy of Will Turner than they would in a battle with these bizarre pirates, who for some reason were making their ship dance about in the strangest ways to avoid the possibility of any ordinary naval fighting. Norrington probably wouldn't want to hear that now, Gilette thought unhappily – it was too creative. Lately he had been more and more exclusively receptive to things that came only in black and white. A shame, that. But what could one do?

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When Jack woke up in the morning, Elizabeth was gone but Barbossa was sprawled out next to him, asleep (and fully clothed). Comfortable as he was, Jack decided to get up and get dressed straight away because there were things he had to do and say that would probably be much more dignified if they came from a man wearing something besides a pair of lacy underpants.

He put his clothes on, making a multitude of faces because they were still damp, and shook Barbossa awake. The Deception game had to be addressed. "I know what you did, mate," he said. "I know what was really at stake." Barbossa frowned, not yet understanding, but Jack decided he had said enough. There was no need to embarrass the old pirate by saying straight out that his fear of Jones's undeath was painfully apparent, or that it was in fact quite touching that he had braved it for his friends' sake.

Jack picked Barbossa's hat up off the headboard of the bed and dropped it over his face. "You just stay here and get some more beauty rest," he advised. He lowered his voice as if to tell a secret: "You need it."

The cabin door was open, so either the _Dutchman _had surfaced or Elizabeth had elected to drown herself rather than share his bed. Jack hoped it was the former.

He didn't like wandering this ship alone, so he made a beeline for the deck, correctly predicting that she would have staked out a spot of railing and would be staring off into the sea.

He did _not _predict, however, that Davy Jones would be standing there with her, getting a moral lecture. "-_so _much power," Elizabeth was saying, "and you squander it. That's all. I don't-"

"I think I make very good use of my power," Jones argued. He made a sweeping gesture around the ship. "These men? Dead. Without me they-"

"-And a lifetime on the _Dutchman _is so much better?"

"They seemed to think so!" Jones was getting himself all worked up. "I offered them a _choice_."

Elizabeth turned to face him and actually touchedhis arm. "I'm sorry, I'm not making myself clear. I don't condemn you for what you do - I'm just frustrated at what you _don't _do. There's so much potential here for you to do such good..."

Derisive laughter. "And why would I want to do that?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth and then closed it, stymied. She looked out to sea again. "I talked a lot to Will's father last time I was here," she said after a moment. "It seems to me you did right by him – you gave him a period of limbo and he used it to make his peace with death. I think that's wonderful, Davy, I do. I just think he was very much in the minority, that's the problem."

From where Jack was standing he could hear the squidman's tentacles squelching unpleasantly. Agitated, then? She was getting to him?

"I agree that Bootstrap Bill had a grip on philosophy that surpassed most philosophers," Jones said with a short laugh. "I used to test him sometimes. To force him. He always chose well."

"See, that's what I mean," Elizabeth challenged. "You could have just praised him for his strengths, instead of putting him through hell to make him demonstrate them." She didn't look at him when she asked: "Do you really think you're doing them a favor?"

"I do," he said with finality. "When I take them in, they're afraid of death. By the time a hundred years are up and it's time again to die, they're _begging _for death. It's an arrangement that works out for everyone."

"But why must they be begging for death? Why not just _ready _for it? You could style yourself as a teacher rather than as the devil."

Jones snorted. "Why the devil would I want to?"

Jack knew there was no good answer to that, so he interrupted the conversation before Elizabeth tied herself in any more knots. "Morning, boys and girls."

Completely engrossed in their discussion, Jones and Elizabeth were startled at his intrusion. Jack came as close as was comfortable for him - about eight feet. "Where are we?"

"Almost there. You were right, Sparrow - there's blood in the water, some of it Turner's. I don't know what happened to your precious _Pearl_, but I do know we'll easily catch it before Beckett's anywhere near the place."

"Blood," Jack echoed thoughtfully. He had a surprisingly accurate guess of what had happened. "Once we see how they are we'll know better what to do. It's your call, mate - you're the one with everything at stake."

When he said the decision was Jones's to make, what he meant was Jones could say whether they should team up with the _Pearl _to take the heart by force, or order the _Pearl _to change course and wait for a more opportune moment to make the heist. Jones, though, had a completely different option in mind. He knew that Sparrow's plans _might _work out, but he was sorely tempted to call everything off and simply sink the _Black Pearl _as Beckett had ordered. That way, even if he didn't get his heart backjust yet, at least he knew it would be safe for now.

Because with Sparrow in the mix as part of the rescue mission, not to mention that crazed child Will Turner, who knows what would happen even if the mission were successful?

On its own, Jones's moustache reached up to massage his temples - one of the benefits of being part octopus.

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TBC.

Jury's _still _out on Davy Jones. And Norrington, for that matter. He used to be a good man if something of a stick, but in DMC his sarcastic sense of humor ("...the day Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped," "Nothing I'd lament being rid of," etc) was replaced with a nasty streak a mile wide. So I'm not sure yet what I think about him. Bitter, disillusioned... but maybe okay, underneath it all? Dunno yet. My story from a couple years ago, Your Bloody Friend Norrington, is incredibly sympathetic towards him but I'm not sure I like him as much now as I did then.

Leave me some lovin and I'll see if I can post again Sunday. Monday, perhaps.


	27. Elizabeth gets taken seriously

The fighting had barely started when Norrington waved a white kerchief from the tip of his sword. "Stop it, _wait_! We SURRENDER!" He jumped up on a box and continued to carry on. "_ALL _my men, lay down your weapons _NOW_!"

Will was shocked beyond belief – he had offered Norrington quarter without the slightest hope that the man would take it. Norrington _hated _pirates, after all, and his last experience with surrender had not been a good one. But still, for whatever reason he surrendered, and Will decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He immediately ordered the soldiers all collected off the crippled ship and brought over to the _Pearl_. He escorted Norrington over himself, jubilant because a bloodbath had been averted, trying to reassure the poor former Commodore, who seemed quite nervous. "Really – we're not going to hurt you. I mean it, really."

"Mmm."

"Honestly, I'm glad it all worked out."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry about that trick with the prisoners. Are they all all right?"

"Pardon? Oh. Yes, yes, fine, Mr. Turner, it's all fine."

They looted Norrington's ship and then sank her. Everybody stood on deck to watch. It was getting crowded, with all the pirates, soldiers, and civilian captives, but it didn't occur to Will to make use of the brig. He would later regret this oversight very deeply.

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Charlotte didn't like the way the soldiers were exchanging glances and muttering to each other. When one of them took her aside and whispered, "You ought to get below, mum," she didn't waste time. She gathered up Albert and nudged a few of the other captives and headed for one of the cabins. Governor Swann was already there, and he helped usher everyone indoors. They had barely barricaded themselves in before the first shots were fired.

Norrington had thought this plan up once his ship was ruined, and had wrestled with himself over it for all of two minutes. It seemed underhanded in a way he didn't like, but on the other hand these were _pirates _for Heaven's sake, and they had only won the battle by using trickery in the first place! So he ordered his men to surrender, and when they were brought to the decks of the _Pearl _they all had blades and pistols hidden safely out of sight under their coats. He had worried that Turner would try to lock them up, but expected him too be too much a bleeding heart to cram them _all _into the brig. There would be some people locked up, he reasoned, and the rest loose out on deck. There they would wait for the right moment to strike.

He was thrilled when Turner didn't even think to lock them up at all. When it seemed a good time he gave the signal and the mayhem started.

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The _Dutchman _arrived not a moment too soon. Jack was in the rigging, with a better view than Elizabeth and Barbossa, who stood on the deck below. He had intended to communicate the news down to them, but found it all much too confusing. It seemed that the _Pearl _had won; it was not even damaged and the other ship had been sunk. Yet there was still a raging hand-to-hand battle going on. "Oh dear."

"What?" Elizabeth shouted up to him. "Jack, what's going on?"

"Board, Davy!" Jack was shouting. "Now would be a very good time to board!"

Fish-people tossed grappling hooks and swarmed over. Will tried to explain things to the soldiers he was fighting: "The monsters are with _us_! Lay down your weapons or you _will _be slaughtered!" But the soldiers understandably were frightened by Jones's crew and not very eager to surrender to them. More than a few were eventually slaughtered before Will got the mess under control. When he had arranged the surviving soldiers on the ground and corralled the fish-people to one side so they wouldn't frighten anyone worse, he looked up to see Davy Jones standing just beside him. He yelped in surprise and banged his head against the mast.

"Sorry." Jones did not look sorry at all. "Your Mr. Gibbs asked me over. What's the problem here?"

"The problem?" Will winced. Now that the adrenaline was fading it hurt to talk. It was a stab wound. Not a bad one. "The problem is we gave quarter to these people and they turned on us. You should be ashamed of yourself," he hissed to Norrington, who was sitting under guard by himself by the mast.

"Oh, shut it," Norrington snapped back. "You're no stranger to dirty fighting yourself. Pirate."

"Actually-" Everyone turned to look at Jack, who had swung over daintily on someone else's grappling hook. "Actually, Will generally fights with honor, to the intense frustration of all the other pirates around him. I think I'd have to agree with him, Norrington: you _should _be ashamed of yourself."

Davy Jones looked very interested. "Norrington, is it?" There was a moment of silence.

Jack's eyes darted from Jones to Norrington and back again. "Ah, ah, now, that's not fair," he said. "Davy, you lost him fair and square. Fair and square, mate, come on."

Jones snorted in disgust and gestured to his crew. "Find me anyone who might wish to talk business with me," he barked. "Fetch me _the girl _from off my ship and leave her here. In fact… leave them both." He turned to Jack. "I suppose if you're going after my heart you'll do better to have Barbossa with you too. Sparrow, if anything goes wrong…"

"You're a diamond, mate." Jack patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine – _trust me_."

Will winced at his choice of words, but Jones – the fool – didn't seem suspicious.

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Davy Jones had recruited a few of the dying and herded his crew back to their ship. That left only a cabin full of civilian captives, the pirate crew of the _Black Pearl_, and a set of twice-defeated piratehunters led by a man who was in fact feeling very ashamed of himself and hence very defensive.

"Three of you have been recently referring to yourselves as _Captain," _Norrington said haughtily. "Might I ask with whom I'm going to be dealing?"

Jack and Barbossa exchanged glances. "Your call, mate. We could use him."

_That eliminates me, _thought Barbossa. But Norrington wouldn't trust Jack and didn't respect Will. Who did that leave? He nudged Elizabeth.

"Me?" she hissed at him.

He shrugged. "If you embarrass yourself we can always kill him for you, destroy the evidence. We could use those soldiers for what's coming. Let's see what you can do, miss."

She nodded and addressed Norrington with confidence. "You'll be dealing with me."

"Well thank God for that," Norrington muttered. "Someone civilized. Listen, there are innocent people on this ship and we have to get them back to Port Royal. If the pirates cooperate I can almost guarantee that we'll show them clem-"

She reached without looking for Will's knife. It slid free from his belt with a satisfying _whissh_ and felt comfortably warm in her hand. "_You _surrendered to us, not the other way round, James," she said flatly, "And I'll thank you to treat me with a little respect from now on. I'll give you one more chance. I want to strike a deal with you for the temporary use of your soldiers. Are you ready to parlay in earnest?" She walked over to him and dug the point of the weapon into his throat.

He winced and tilted his head back, looking irritated but not very afraid. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Elizabeth, that hurts. Stop it."

Elizabeth yanked his coat open with her other hand and without another word sliced a big cut through the delicate skin over his collarbone. She slapped her hand over the bleeding and then let him go. As he stumbled backwards, clutching his chest with almost comic surprise, Elizabeth wrote quickly on the inside of her own forearm with his blood.

"I seem to remember you judge people first and foremost by the brand they wear," she said coldly. "You're going to need to take me seriously. Does this help?" She held up her arm.

The sight of a P written on Elizabeth in blood - _his _blood, no less - rendered Norrington temporarily speechless. This was the person he had been about to _marry_? "Are we clear now?" she persisted.

He looked into her eyes and they were angry and cold in ways even Jack Sparrow's had never been. "I'm beginning to think so."

"That's good, James, because I used to like you and I would hate to have to do you real harm. But I will, if you don't cooperate. So?"

"All right - I'll cooperate," Norrington stuttered, still a bit shaken. "I'll cooperate but for God's sake Elizabeth, take that thing off your arm!"

"No, I think I quite like it. Perhaps I can get Beckett to give me one that'll last. Now, I can't say I trust you after what you just did. _Rope_!" Someone handed her a piece. She circled around to Norrington's back, pulled his arms behind him and tied his wrists together – quickly and professionally. When she was finished, she was glad to see that he struggled for a moment. That way, he would know what a good job she had done, and if it was possible for him to be any more afraid of her, he would be.

"Now, this way. Ladies first." She gestured for him to precede her. When they reached the ladder downstairs she made him start his descent so that she had a height advantage of at least three feet before speaking. "You're going below to prevent a repeat of your last trick, miss. As a courtesy I'll send Jack Sparrow to speak with you, as you seem less afraid of him than of the rest of us." She was channeling Barbossa so well that her voice had acquired a singsongy quality that made the words even more mocking. She gestured carelessly to Jack. "Go on, follow him down there and explain what we want. I'll go turn up a bottle of smelling salts somewhere – in case he faints."

It was difficult for Elizabeth to continue to look angry; she felt so elated she wanted to dance. She'd had this Navy man, a former Commodore no less, completely cowed within thirty seconds. The captain was right - blood plus confidence was a powerful combination. Lost in thought, Elizabeth licked her fingers.

Norrington was shocked by the gesture. Jack was amused. Will was mildly uncomfortable. Barbossa was very proud of her... and very sorry she was about to be married.

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Jack was impressed with how thoroughly Elizabeth had cut through the prisoner's pride, but they needed him to do more than gape like a fish out of water. They needed him to make a firm and deep commitment to helping out this voyage to the best of his abilities. How to do that? First, Jack had to find a way of putting him a little more at ease.

He clattered about on the floor til he found a knife. "Aha!"

"Not you, too," Norrington said wearily.

Jack laughed. "Oh, no, mate, I'm just doing you a favor here." He stepped behind Norrington, much closer and more invasively than Elizabeth had done, and started to saw at the rope. "Goodness, the girl knows how to tie a knot!"

Norrington turned around to face him as soon as the ropes had parted. "How do you know I won't just kill you here?"

_Because your pistol is spent from the LAST traitorous trick you thought up_. "Because unlike Elizabeth and Will, who tend to judge people a bit harshly, I think there's still a good man under there."

Norrington snorted. "Morality lessons? From a pirate?"

"To a man who used Will's sense of mercy to try and kill him?" Jack challenged right back. "Yes."

"I'm not proud of that," Norrington said quietly.

"First honest thing you've ever said to me."

"Honest? Oh, you should talk!" He sighed. "Sparrow, give it up. Just tell me what you want from my men and I'll see about agreeing to it."

For a moment Jack considered looking for a gentle way to say it, but then just plunged ahead. "There's not much you can do _besides _agree, is there? We're fed up with offering you quarter for nothing. Therefore you have to offer us _something _to make us offer you anything, and I know you _need _us to offer you something because I know you and you won't see your men slaughtered. Therefore, I know you're going to agree to what I ask before I even ask it…which leads me to wonder why I bother to ask at all."

Norrington could feel himself becoming stupider from listening to Sparrow's nonsense. He tried to think of any response which might be sensible following that ridiculous speech. "The point?" he snapped finally.

"The point is I didn't bring you hear to negotiate."

"No, _Elizabeth_ sent us here to negotiate," Norrington argued, sounding childish even to himself. Jack waited him out, and eventually he gave up. "Very well, Sparrow: _why _did you bring me here?" he said through gritted teeth.

Jack looked thrilled that his wayward pupil had finally asked the right question. "The promise of redemption." Norrington sniffed at the idea but didn't start objecting very vocally, which Jack took as a good sign. "I mean it, mate. It's a second chance."

"There's no such thing."

Jack jerked his shirt up over his head. "Yes, there is."

Norrington stared. "What in God's name…"

Jack had intended to keep the discussion focused on the possibility of a second chance for _Norrington, _but apparently he had misjudged the progress he was making towards forgiveness. He could feel control slipping away. _Mistake, Jack, mistake, shhh. _"Your fault," he informed him, complete with accusing pointing gesture. "Yours."

"My fault? How do you mean?"

"The heart! Bloody imbecile!" Jack turned away from him, hating to be seen losing his temper. _Breathe._

"The…"

"The heart, the Kraken, hasn't anybody told you?" Jack's voice broke. _Stop it, stop it, calm down. _"Do you have _any_ idea what-"

"Elizabeth said you'd been killed," Norrington whispered, "But then I saw you, and obviously I knew she was lying."

Jack was standing in the shadows, facing the wall. "I took us out into open water because I thought I had the heart to bargain with," he recited tonelessly. "My ship was sunk and I lost most of my crew, to very horrible deaths… which I witnessed. A very few of them survived. I was not among them. My friends sailed to the bloody ends of the world to fetch me back from the dead."

"No…"

"Yes!" Jack turned around and struck a pose. "Where do you think these came from, then, eh? D'you think you can just… patch up this sort of thing? Sew people's arms back on once the Kraken's torn them off? Hmm?"

"I…" Norrington searched for a way not to believe him, but unfortunately all he could think of was "Turner's got scars now, too. Fatal injuries…"

"Yes, our dear friend William Turner has also been over to the other side," Jack said wearily. He tried to get back to business. "Just listen here, all right? The lot of us owe Davy Jones a debt. So long as Beckett has that blasted heart, we're not safe. That's why we need your cooperation, and you'd better deliver, or so help me I'll cheer Barbossa on when he disembowels you." He paused and put a hand to his chin as though thinking. "I've seen him do that, actually. It's really not very pret-"

Norrington silenced him. "Be as big a fool as you want, Sparrow, it's too late now." He watched Jack put his shirt back on. "Now go away, would you? I need to think."

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TBC.

Woohoo, I think I smell salvation in Norrington's future!

Thanks to everybody who's reviewed! Your comments give me ideas about what comes next, so this story is turning out just as suspenseful for me as for everybody else hehe.

JeanieBeanie33: Gibbs, loyal? Ha! He's always the first to advocate casting off the moment it looks like someone's fallen behind. I'd love to know whose idea it was at the end of CotBP to come back for Jack during the hanging; my money's on Ana Maria and she probably had to kick Gibbs's ass to get it to happen.


	28. Lord Beckett daydreams

Norrington finally came back up on deck. "Everyone who is _not _a pirate," he called, "And that includes my men, any captive civilians, and Will Turner too, I suppose... I want all of you to come with me into that cabin. We've got things to discuss."

Once they were assembled, he paced the floor, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed. "What I am about to tell you may shock you," he began. "It goes against everything we've been taught and against the law and perhaps against everything you believe. Understand this: I won't force anybody." He had everyone's undivided attention. Even the children were silent and had stopped fidgeting.

Now or never. Norrington planted his feet, dropped his arms to his sides and raised his head. "I have decided to help the pirates," he said clearly, "And I would ask you all to do the same." Nobody began to stone him just yet, so he felt a little better. "I can tell you that while criminals, the men out there are by and large good people. They are on a mission to steal away the source of the black magic Lord Beckett has been performing recently. They intend to return it to its rightful owner."

At the mention of Beckett's black magic, a murmur started up among the soldiers and some of the women crossed themselves. Norrington did not flinch from what he had to say. "What Lord Beckett has done... _with my help_... is an abomination. These people are trying to stop him... and I fully support them." Norrington paused. For some reason, the last few words he had to get out were just not cooperating. His voice was shaking, choked, almost inaudible as he asked, tentative and terrified: "Who's with me?"

"I am." Heads turned as none other than Governor Swann himself stood up and crossed his arms. "And so is anyone still loyal to me. Port Royal is our city, and I won't have it turned into a pawn to make someone a pile of money."

"There, see," Norrington breathed, relieved. "It's not so outlandish as it might be. Debate amongst yourselves, then, and if you decide not to participate you can stay here. You've got Turner's word you won't be harmed. However, if you _do_ want to help the pirates, come out on deck and ask for orders."

"Who's in charge here, sir? Who do we report to?" one of the soldiers asked.

Will opened his mouth to reply but Norrington, deeply offended at the lack of law and order on the _Pearl_, had an answer ready and beat him to it.

"Apparently, on this ship, whoever is swaggering most loudly at the moment, in the largest hat, is the captain. It's hard to say who's in charge," he said, making no effort to hide his disdain. Still, he couldn't bring himself to add to the chaos on board by having his men individually report to whomever took their fancy, so he decided, "I'll communicate with the pirate leaders, and you can all receive orders through me."

He thought the meeting was adjourned until he felt a tug on his coat. He looked down. It was _that child_ again, the one he had thrown overboard. Apparently the boy had survived, and worse (better?) had not lost his taste for adventure. "Can I help? What will I do?" he asked.

"I think you've done quite enough already," Norrington said, for some reason feeling compelled to smile.

"Nonsense." Will Turner held out his hand to the boy. "You can help keep watch, young master. Come on - I'll teach you where you're supposed to climb and what you say."

They skipped off together, Albert still dripping seawater and Will still covered in blood and warpaint. "Not a care in the world, either of them," Norrington muttered to himself. Of all the pirates on this wretched vessel, he was beginning to think Captain Barbossa might be the one he hated least.

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Meanwhile, Lord Beckett sat as his desk, back straight, head high, hands flat on his thighs. He was resolutely _not _pacing, because people would hear him if he paced.

It didn't occur to him that the one man on the ship dangerous enough to read him properly – his ruthless minister-without-portfolio Mercer – could hear even more from his boss's unnatural stillness than he could from the sounds of an openly nervous man pacing his cabin.

Beckett was thinking about a good excuse to demand that Davy Jones give his prisoners back. He knew, of course, that it was a terrible idea. But he _also _knew he would be furious with himself if harm came to the pretty Elizabeth. Irreparable harm might come to her on that ship, especially if the ship was out fighting pirates.

He wanted her back. He wished he could have her _with _Jack Sparrow, because they obviously had history together and leverage was always a good thing, but he knew Sparrow was too dangerous to keep around. Besides, it was rather likely that Jones had killed him by now, orders or no orders.

Fine, settled, he would think of a way to get Elizabeth back in his possession. He would also think of a way to get her out of her rags and into a dress, at least for a little while. He liked her looking regal and haughty. Mmm.

He would take her out so some very formal social event. She would be dressed to the nines, sweeping about in a lovely gown, a queen, the envy of everybody who so much as caught a glimpse of her. Then afterwards in the carriage home he would _look_ at her. Just look. But she would know what he was thinking. They would get home, he would have the driver take them around back to the stable. He would help her down from the carriage himself. Oh, completely proper, of course, on a whim the lady wishes to see to the comfort of her favorite mare herself. He would send the driver away.

He would start with her hair, all the bows and pins and other nonsense pulled out and trod underfoot. Her hair would tumble down, soon to become a wild mess when he pushed her up against the stable wall and-

_Ahem. _He smiled. _Focus, Cutler. _Now: how best to ask Jones for the prisoner back? Did it show a weakness to say he had changed his mind? Or did it show a powerful kind of capriciousness, the kind that had an emperor building and destroying new palaces with a wave of his hand? Perhaps he could invent some reason...

But Beckett soon found himself daydreaming again.

Elizabeth, her beautiful dress now all torn to rags, flushed, lips swollen up from all the kissing. She would reach up to brush hair off her forehead, and her hand would leave a smudge of dirt. She was positively _glowing _with perspiration, a droplet cutting a clean path down her dusty throat to disappear into the disarray of her unfastened bodice. His mouth curved into a little smile that was contemptuous but also affectionate. "You're a mess."

Beckett jumped. He had said it out loud. My, that was embarrassing. If anybody had heard him muttering to himself like a madman... heavy breathing and all...

He marched at once to his door and flung it open. No one there. Thank Heaven for that.

He went back to his desk and sat back down and forced himself to focus on a plan to retrieve his little piratess.

("But I can't go back up to the house like this!" "Oh, you'll manage." Paternal, encouraging, firm. Seizing a handful of her hair. "I know: why don't you borrow some of the stable lad's clothes - there's a set right over there on the ground, it looks a bit filthy but I'm sure you don't mind - and sneak in the servants' entrance." Her look was priceless. Shocked, offended beyond measure, humiliated even. They both knew she would do it even before he reached for the laces of her ruined dress. "Go on. Put them on. Now.")

_Focus, Cutler._

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The _Flying Dutchman _surfaced next to the _Pearl _and scared everyone half to death. "Go away!" Jack shouted. "We've got everything under control."

Barbossa rolled his eyes and flicked his spyglass open. "Well?"

"Well," Jones said from right beside him, "It seems our friend Lord Beckett requires the presence of one Elizabeth Swann, as well as her mysterious friend the captain of whatever ship I allegedly am sinking at this very moment. Meaning _you_," he added to Barbossa.

"No," Jack complained, "We need them."

"For what?"

Jack hesitated. "Well, suffice it to say that my plan is still in its formative stages, one might say its _infancy, _mate, and I therefore need all my-"

"Just as I thought, Sparrow, you're as poor as strategist as everything else." Jones clicked his claw impatiently. "I've no intention of dying because you think you _might _like to keep your friends with you. Elizabeth, Barbossa, you're coming with me. Jack will have to steal the heart on Isla Cruces without your help."

Lightbulb.

"As it so happens," Jack said haughtily, "I _do _have a plan, and my friends will _not_ stay with me, and the heart will _not_ be stolen on Isla Cruces, and in fact it will not even be me who steals it." He threw his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and explained: "You, love, willhead over to Davy's ship. He willtake you to Lord Beckett... in a manner of speaking. He will in fact tell Lord Beckett that you've been killed in the fight with this mysterious pirate vessel. You will _sneak _aboard Beckett's ship when he's not looking. You will then proceed to steal the heart out from under his very nose."

"How the blazes is that even remotely possible?" Barbossa burst in. "First of all, you've said it's under guard. Second, it's on a _ship _for God's sake - even _if _we could steal it, what exactly should we do with it then?"

The plan took shape. It was as perfectly absurd as any plan Jack had ever concocted, and he was thrilled with it. "You'll steal a longboat. You'll leave Beckett's ship-."

"Beckett will see-"

"Not," Jack interrupted, "If he's too busy defending his ship from a savage attack by the bloody _Black Pearl_, mate."

Barbossa made a conscious effort to keep his mouth closed, and not gape like an idiot. _That could actually work. _Once the heart was out of Beckett's possession, he couldn't call the fury of the _Dutchman _down on them and it would be just a fair fight between the two ships (fair, hah!). Of course the _Pearl _would win.

So that was one thing out of a hundred that _wouldn't _go wrong. A plan with approximately ninety-nine holes in it? That was better than what Jack usually came up with. Barbossa just hoped that the idiot's supernatural luck didn't desert them all now.

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TBC.

Don't worry - Beckett's not going to get her back. But I just couldn't resist taking a break from the plot to have a quick peek into his twisted little mind. Lord Beckett is so creepy I'm in love with him. Anyhow, next chapter it'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming, I promise.

If you've got this story on your favorites list and you haven't written a review yet, that's not fair! To those who _have _written: thanks! Saishlyimna: I can see Davy Jones as a pretty lonely guy. I keep wanting him to make friends with Elizabeth, but every time I put them alone together all they'll do is argue. I keep finding that he kind of hits it off with Barbossa, which is odd since I would have thought the two of them are old and crusty and similar enough to detest each other.

The giant final battle scene is taking shape in my head. I can't wait, it's going to be pretty funny. There's no word to describe it except _chaotic_. Total mass craziness of a scale even Jack could hardly imagine.


	29. The thumpthump changes hands

A/N: The action of this chapter is somewhat fast and furious. If it's hard to follow, just remember: this is _Pirates_. They have three-way swordfights on a giant rolling wheel. 'Nuff said.

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They loaded Elizabeth and Barbossa onto the _Flying Dutchman _and put Jack's plan into action. Davy Jones sailed up to Lord Beckett and lied through his teeth about having sunk the pirate ship but unfortunately killed his captives. They were shot, he explained, while making a mad escape attempt.

While their talk was going on and Beckett's crew was occupied with gawking as discreetly as possible at this amazing creature who was half squid, Elizabeth and Barbossa snuck from one ship to the other. (Elizabeth had been chosen for this mission because she would have the best chance of staying alive if caught by Beckett. Barbossa had invented several reasons to accompany her, but Elizabeth suspected the real reason was simply that he didn't want her to undertake the mission alone. Will had been extremely supportive of the captain's decision, and in fact had helped invent several additional reasons for it. Because Elizabeth was glaring at him, these reasons did not contain the words "worried" or "protect.")

In any case. Jack had sworn that Beckett was so proud of the mechanical protections he had devised that he did not even deem it necessary to have human guards watch over the heart. While that idea was ridiculous, at first it seemed to be true. They waited til Beckett was in the privy, then snuck into his private room, and it was indeed empty. They paused at the secret door behind the mirror.

("A secret room on a _ship_?" Elizabeth had demanded, not believing a word of it. "Saw it with my own eyes, love," Jack had answered in his most honest voice.)

Elizabeth paused before they opened it. "Ready?" Barbossa gave her an encouraging wink and she flung the door open.

She went cold. There was someone there! A guard, leaping to his feet right beside the table and reaching for the lever that would destroy-

Apparently Barbossa had foreseen the possibility of a guard within the chamber, because his knife whistled by her ear and buried itself in the guard's chest. The guard squeaked and staggered backwards. Barbossa was on him in a minute and finished the job with his sword.

"Apologies for the gore, miss," he said smoothly as he wiped off his blades. "They'd have heard a pistol shot upstairs."

Elizabeth tore her attention away from the bloody mess and turned to the intricate machine on the table. There were the three levers, exactly as Jack had described them. One would open the chest, while the others would break a delicate bottle of acid that sat next to the heart, ready to destroy it. She tiptoed up, careful not to bump the table. The machine was intentionally very fragile, she knew – any serious damage to the ship, any foul weather, would be enough to kill Davy Jones for good. This ensured that Jones was insanely protective of this ship, and of Lord Beckett, who was (until he demonstrated his genius arrangements to Jack) the only person who knew how to extract the heart. Elizabeth exhaled slowly. "Jack told me that Beckett opened the box with the left lever." She reached for it, but Barbossa caught her wrist.

"How stupid is Beckett really?" he asked urgently. "Stupid enough to trust Jack Sparrow with his secrets?"

Elizabeth paused. "Is _anybody _that stupid?"

Barbossa felt underneath the lever and found a small button on the side of the box. "Feel here. That's the little trick that Jack missed."

"Or simply failed to tell us about," Elizabeth muttered. She held the button down, _then_ lifted the lever to pop open the top. The capsule of acid didn't break.

Once the box was open, Elizabeth withdrew the smaller box inside it. This one, too, was a machine with built-in destructive capacity. It had four dials with little symbols on them, and Elizabeth was about to stake their whole plan on Jack's ability to remember the code perfectly after one sighting. A sighting, in fact, which Jack had accomplished by watching Beckett's reflection in the shiny side of a silver teapot, since Beckett had been careful to shield what he was doing from Jack's direct view. It wasn't easy, especially with Barbossa muttering "_hurry up_" in her ear ever few seconds, but Elizabeth did it as she'd been told, and the smaller box opened. She mastered her revulsion enough to reach in and pull the heart out from its elaborate nest of spikey gears ready to whirl and crush it. When she felt it beating in her hand, though, she shuddered and dropped it onto the table.

Barbossa stuck it unsqueamishly into his coat. Stealing the heart was _that _easy.

They closed up the boxes so that Beckett wouldn't realize right away that it was gone. Then they hid. "When do we get out of here?" Elizabeth hissed.

Barbossa looked pained. "I asked Jack. I'll give you three guesses what his answer was."

She guessed Jack's answer without difficulty, but didn't like it much. "That's ridiculous," she hissed, "How can we possibly know when the opportune moment will be?"

He didn't sound particularly disturbed. "He said we'll know."

"What? No! You don't actually _believe _him?"

"Don't you?" Barbossa turned to her in surprise. "You're here, aren't you?"

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Jack was staring into his spyglass, watching the distant speck that was Beckett's ship. "It's going to work."

"It is _not _going to work!" Will insisted. "Beckett may be a scoundrel but he's not an idiot. If he really wants to take our ship, he'll just call the _Dutchman._"

"Not if thinks he doesn't _need _the _Dutchman_. He's afraid, mate, don't let him tell you otherwise. The less he has to ask of Davy Jones, the better. He's going to come after us himself."

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Very well – I'll give you that. If Beckett _thinks _he can take us, he won't call for help. But how can we make him think that? The _Pearl _is much too fast. Should we take in sail?"

"No, then he'll _know _we're hiding something from him." Jack argued.

"I've got it." Will jumped up excitedly. "He's behind us, right? Figure out what sails he can't see because of the mainsail, and, and, take them down." Will had pulled the idea out of thin air and didn't know if it even made any sense, but Jack didn't seem opposed. In fact, he was narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, so Will took heart and continued, "Yes, and we can, uh, we can run out the oars… but not have the men actually use them. Just sort of skim them over the water. Can we do that? It will make Beckett think we're running scared and have got nothing else to fall back on…"

Jack considered the plan quickly, swallowed down his jealousy at not having thought of it himself, and agreed. "We'll have Norrington's men sit at the oars, we don't want them to be seen just yet. We'll save it as a surprise for later."

Jack and Norrington took the uniformed men below and got them seated at the benches. Jack explained the plan.

Norrington listened carefully, then fought his way out of his coat and nudged one of the men with his boot. "Move. Move over."

"Beg pardon, sir?"

Norrington shoved a little harder and sat down on the bench beside him. He addressed Sparrow without looking at him. "I understand that we're all in danger here, the civilians too, and so – much as it pains me – I'm going to help you. However, your plan is ridiculous. I cannot possibly ask my men to participate in it if I'm not down here doing the same."

"But I want you up on deck, mate. Two heads being better than one and all that."

Norrington shook his head and prepared to argue further, but was interrupted before he could even start. "Sir!"

He turned around to face Gilette. "Sir, if you tell us to row, sir – or pretend to row – we'll do it whether you're here or not! Just give me your orders and then do what you need to do."

Norrington glanced from him to the others and saw something in their faces that he hadn't seen since before the hurricane. Since before he'd sent Jack Sparrow to hang, in fact. He found himself inexplicably choked up and barely managed to growl, "Very well – you heard the plan. Gilette…make it happen."

"Yes, sir!"

Although he usually detested Sparrow's tendency to invade personal boundaries at every opportunity, this time Norrington was glad to have the pirate hang an arm over his shoulders and pull him away. Beginning to win back his men's respect after so long was a powerful experience and he didn't think he would have quite managed to walk steadily without help.

And of course Sparrow, damn him, noticed. "At least the day's not a total loss," he remarked cheerfully as they ascended. "You having found your redemption and all that."

Norrington found himself compelled to argue – old habits and all that. "I refuse to consider the possibility of finding _redemption_ in the hold of a pirate ship."

Jack stopped and turned to face him. "No, mate, you're finding redemption in the company of good people helping protect those you care about," he explained quietly. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Norrington took a look behind them and saw Lord Beckett's ship in the distance. "Talk to me _after _we don't all die here," he muttered to Jack. "Look – they're getting closer."

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Have fun, mate." He raised his voice and ordered a few pirates who were standing about, "You! Lower this boat."

"What?" Norrington grabbed him by the shirt. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

Jack shook free and flashed him his loopiest smile. "Just trust me."

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"Sails! Sails! The Jolly Roger! Sir, it's pirates!"

Beckett's pulse quickened, but he made sure to look up from his desk slowly and project complete unconcern. "Mr. Mercer."

"Yes, sir, I'll go sort it all out." Mercer materialized from the shadows and headed upstairs.

Beckett sat alone, thinking. That was likely the same pirate ship that Davy Jones claimed to have sunk. If the ship was still afloat it meant he hadn't fought it, and _that _meant that Elizabeth hadn't been killed. Why would Jones lie? Ah. Because he'd been charmed by that little minx, just like everybody else. Naughty girl. Beckett _tsk_ed aloud and smiled. "We're going to have to have a few words, my dear," he whispered.

_Focus. _Should he call for Jones now and take him to task? Or might it be better to attack the pirate ship himself – only if his men thought it could be done, of course, he was no fool and wouldn't bite off more than he could chew. The idea of confronting Jones and Elizabeth with the mutilated remains of their treachery was vastly appealing. That decided it – if Mercer thought it feasible, he would order pursuit.

Speak of the devil. Mercer strode back in, calm as ever. "Well?"

"They're running from us, sir."

"What if we wanted to catch them?"

Mercer grinned and toyed with the dagger in his sleeve. "I'd say it could be done, sir. We might have to lighten the ship a little, but everyone seems confident this ship could overtake. They haven't got any more speed anyplace, sir, they're even using their oars and they've already started dumping. They even dumped one of their lifeboats."

"Desperate, panicking pirates?" Beckett smirked. "I like that type the best of all. Do it."

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When Barbossa and Elizabeth climbed aboard the lifeboat, drenched and exhausted from the swim, they found Jack napping on the floor. He jumped up. "'Ello, fancy meeting you here!"

Once they were all seated, Barbossa reached over, caught Elizabeth up in a bearhug, and heaved her overboard again.

She came up sputtering and laughing. "That's not fair – you deserved it! You don't get to take revenge for something you deserved!" Jack helped pull her aboard again.

"She pushed me off Beckett's ship while I was getting ready to dive," Barbossa explained, wringing out his hair. "She can count herself lucky I don't give her a spanking." He reached into his coat and pulled out a soaking, rumpled bundle that turned out to be his hat.

"Ah, speaking of hats…" Jack reached over and detached his own hat from the bow of the lifeboat. "Glad you saw my signal. Now, let's row this thing to shore – that shouldn't take us long – and hide the heart someplace. Just in case Davy gets second thoughts about playing fair."

They started rowing, joking around, happily oblivious to the pack of Davy Jones's fish-people who were following them at a distance. It seems after all that Jack wasn't the only one worried about his allies not playing fair.

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They were in the woods of the island picking out a good spot to bury the heart when Jack suddenly grabbed at Barbossa's arm. "D'you smell something?"

Barbossa sniffed. "You could try bathing sometimes, Jack."

"I smell it," Elizabeth breathed. "Oh, God. It's them."

"It's them, who _them_?" demanded Barbossa testily. There was _nothing _wrong with his sense of smell, thank you very much, but he didn't sm- _Oh_. There it was, a rotten fishy odor. "Davy's crew. We've been followed."

"Yah." Jack turned in a slow circle but couldn't see anyone. He licked his finger and tested the wind. "Smell's coming from that way, so I think we should take the other direction. At a very, very fast pace."

Elizabeth hadn't yet managed to move. Barbossa grabbed her hand and pulled her. "That means _run_."

They ran. They could hear the fish-people running after them. They ran faster.

Elizabeth eventually thought to ask, "Do you think they know we have the heart?"

"Doubt it," Barbossa gasped out. He hated running long distances. He didn't have to do it often, fortunately, because it made him feel sick and dizzy. Not to mention he was not as young as he used to be, and leaping around always pulled on old scars, and this time there was a bloody _girl _with him who he was barely able to keep up with.

"Should we tell them we've got it?"

"I would not advise that course of action," Jack said, not sounding at all winded, "Because we promised to turn the thing over to Davy, not bring it ashore. He's got my ship out there, and he'll kill everyone if he thinks we've betrayed him."

Barbossa found the breath to correct, "_My _ship."

A moment later they jumped down into a small ravine and Jack dragged them under an overhanging mess of branches and roots. "Shh," he whispered. "Let the fishies go past us and we'll double back towards the beach."

Grateful for a moment to catch their breath, nobody argued with him. Barbossa reached into his coat. "Here."

"The thump-thump!" Jack clapped his hands joyfully. "I really _like_ the thump-thump, it's so-"

They never found out what quality of Davy Jones's heart appealed to Jack (it was that it reminded him of a kitten, so tiny and yet so tough) because Barbossa shoved it into his hands and hissed at him to be quiet. "If only one of us makes it out of here it's likely to be you, so you might as well keep it. Never mind leaving it on the island, now that they spotted us it's not a secret hiding spot no more. We'll take it with us. Now, quiet - they're coming."

They watched the fish-people jump right over them and run past. They got up very quietly and turned around and started retracing their steps, still running but making an effort to do it silently. They needed to reach the beach with a _very _big head start, because it would not at all be good for the fish-people to overtake them while they were trapped out at sea in the rowboat.

They reached their boat and at first it seemed that they'd really given Jones's crew the slip. But then they caught a glimpse of scales on the horizon, and saw a fishman coming up over the dunes. They'd been spotted.

"Into the boat." Jack's voice was low and urgent. "Hurry up, get in and we'll shove off."

Elizabeth obeyed at once. "Captain?"

Barbossa was judging the distance from the shore to the _Pearl_. "We won't make it. We won't even be close."

"We have to try." Jack climbed in himself and held out his hand. "Now, mate."

"No." Barbossa stepped back away from the boat. "We should take our chances here where at least we can fight, where we have some control. On _land. _Those things are like fishJack, they swimThey'll catch up to us, pull us under, take-."

"We don't even know how many there are," Jack argued. "I've counted at least nine or ten. We'll be slaughtered if we stay. There's a smallchance we can get close enough for the _Pearl_'s guns to cover us, and it's a chance we have to take. I'm not leaving you here to die." When Barbossa didn't move, he drew his pistol. "Get in the boat - that's an order."

"Well, _I'm_ not leaving meout at sea to be taken by Jones's monsters." Barbossa drew his gun, too. "You two get _out _of the boat. _That's _an order."

They regarded each other for a few long seconds while the fish-people continued to get closer. "Of the two of us," Jack began, "I am the only one-"

"You don't seriously think I won't?" Barbossa sneered. He shifted his aim. "You can't row with only one arm."

A quick review of their history together suggested that he was probably serious. Jack winced and put away his pistol. "Fine. You want to stay, stay. Elizabeth and I are going." He hopped out of the boat and, with Barbossa's help, shoved off.

Jack was holding out a hope that his friend might jump in at the last moment, but instead Barbossa just waded a bit closer to shore and drew his sword. He didn't even turn to wave goodbye. Jack was so disappointed that he grabbed a clump of wet sand and threw it at his back. "You'd be willing to kill us all," he shouted, "Just because you're _afraid of fish_!"

With a heroic effort, Barbossa ignored him.

"Come on, then, Elizabeth," Jack said, more to keep his throat clear than anything else. "Let's row."

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TBC.

Ok, the next bit should be good to go tomorrow or Tuesday. _Please _drop me a line and let me know what you think of the story so far. We're kind of approaching the end. I'd really like to hear from people, and I figure that now (while there's a bit of a cliffhanger and I therefore have some leverage) is a good time to demand feedback. So tell me something!

Anonymous: LOL at "hot…old…person…love." I'm resisting the urge to slip in a spoiler here... … … successfully resisted!


	30. Barbossa finds out what it tastes like

They drew Beckett further and further out to sea, carefully keeping just barely out of range to keep him interested. "This is far enough," Will decided at last. "We're turning around."

"Rash as ever, Turner," Norrington scoffed without even bothering to look at him. "We'll wait a little longer, make sure your friends have had enough time to take care of their business, and _then _we'll go back for them."

"We are out too far," Will argued. "If the Kraken comes..."

"Mr. Turner," Norrington lectured him as if he were a small child, "the Kraken is on _our _side now, didn't you listen to a single word of Sparrow's plan?"

Will shook his head. "_We _think Elizabeth and Barbossa stole the heart. _We _think Beckett has no more leverage over Jones. But Beckett and Jones might not know that. Therefore they might still send that monster after us. Norrington... Jack said he showed you what it did to him. Do you really want to take that chance?"

Norrington swallowed, and took a moment to make sure he was not confusing cowardice with prudence before he admitted that Turner might indeed have a point. "Very well," he said, "Just a little further and then we'll bringer her about. I just hope your friends have had enough time to hide the heart _and_ row to where we can pick them up."

"I have faith." Will went off to give the orders. While he was gone, Norrington did a bit of thinking and was mildly disturbed to discover that he had faith, too.

"Run out the guns," he told Gibbs, the only pirate to whom he deigned to speak directly. "Beckett will think we're turning to fight, he'll probably fire on us, so we might as well fire back." He got a distinct glow out of giving the order to fire on Beckett's ship, and didn't even stop to think that that was not the sort of thing a determined anti-pirate crusader ought to do.

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It would be nice, Barbossa thought, if he could kill all the fish-people and make it out alive.

Hah.

More realistically, it would come down to striking a very fine balance between fighting as long as possible in order to kill as many as he could, and shooting himself before they managed to take him alive.

He had four pistols and they had none. One point in his favor. Leaving one bullet aside for his escape, he drew and fired the other guns in quick succession as soon as the fish-people were in range. He hadn't quite lost his touch, it seemed: Eleven enemies became eight plus a cripple.

There was no point waiting around. They were charging and he charged them right back, waving his cutlass, bellowing at the top of his lungs. On the way in he threw his knife and scored a direct hit into someone's face. Heh, heh, that probably hurt.

And then they all got in range of each other's blades, and at that point there really wasn't much strategy left.

The first real trouble wasn't his fault – it's tricky to defend yourself against even _one_ person with a sword who is trying to kill you; it's extremely difficult when there are two of them, and when you get to a crowd of five or six who are all attacking you at once, survival becomes downright impossible. Barbossa knew someone had got to his back and sensed the blow coming and twisted partially out of the way. It was the best he could do. It missed his head by inches and sliced instead, funnily enough, into exactly the place on his shoulder where Elizabeth had given him her tiny little cut all those weeks ago.

No pain yet, just a grinding sensation that he recognized as steel on bone. He didn't let it distract him from the creature whose eyes he was gouging out. His grip on its head allowed him to drag it around, circling, keeping it between him and the others as long as possible. His sword had become entangled in fish entrails and he couldn't pull it out until he had a moment to wipe all the goopy blood off his hands and get a good grip, so until then he thought he would just relieve this corpse of its crusty mace and use that.

Things were still going all right despite all the blood, until the second serious setback –which _was _his fault. Having become completely berserk in the heat of battle, Barbossa was so concerned with the one he was trying to kill that he completely failed to notice somebody next to him swinging a club.

It struck him hard in the leg and he lost his balance and went down. _Arr, that better not be broken. _On his knees in the shallows, for the first time he noticed that the water around him was all red with blood - human blood. The fish-people pressed in around him and he realized he wasn't going anywhere. _Then this is it,_ he told himself. _Don't miss your chance._

He drew his last pistol, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

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Elizabeth had been told time and again that she'd done the right thing leaving Jack to be eaten by the Kraken. It was not her fault, people said, not her fault at all. Now, this was even _less_ her fault than that incident, because it was Barbossa's own idea to stay behind and cover their escape, against everyone's strenuous objections. He wasn't exactly known for his self-sacrifice; he probably had perfectly good reasons for staying and Elizabeth steeled herself to respect his decision. For a little while she thought she was going to be able to do it.

But no matter what Jack told her she _couldn't_ not watch. And the very first time she saw him get hurt, she found she just couldn't take it.

"Jack, we have to go back." He ignored her. "_We have to go back_!"

"No!" He put down the oars and grabbed her before she jumped out of the boat. "Shh, come on, love, don't make this any harder. Elizabeth, really, I can't." He turned her so she couldn't see the shore. "Stop it. I mean it. There's nothing we can-"

"Liar!" She twisted away. "I can't leave him, Jack, I'll never forgive myself. I have to try."

He, too, was beginning to lose his cool. "Stop it! Elizabeth, stop it, I won't go, I mean it, I really won't."

"Now who's afraid of fish!" she screamed at him. "You want to stay, stay. _Elizabeth is going!_" She jumped out of the boat, kicked off the ground, and started to swim.

She wasn't even halfway there when Jack overtook her.

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_Click_.

Time stood still. _I don't feel no different. _Barbossa could hear the words of his idiot crew bouncing through his head. _Did it work_? _How do we tell?_

He could taste the rusty metal in his mouth and that meant his mouth was still working and _that _meant he hadn't succeeded in blowing his head off. His gun had misfired.

Somebody who smelled like rotted seaweed grabbed him by the hair. Something that was encrusted with barnacles and sharp little bits of shells hit him in the face. It stunk, it hurt, and it distracted him enough that when they dunked him in the water, he completely forgot to try inhaling for a quick suicide. Instead, his body fought for life with everything it had and he struggled mindlessly to break the surface. Eventually the fish-people let him up again for a moment, at which point he gasped in desperate gulps of air before they forced him back under.

And then he felt air again, and smelled their stench, and heard someone very close to his ear hiss, "Well, looky here - isn't that sweet?" He opened his eyes and at first all it was was a blur. Then he made out shapes swimming towards them. Jack and Elizabeth.

He was in such a bad way that he didn't even think to feel humiliated at how glad he was to see them. _But they're so far away_...

"Isn't it sweet?" The fishman repeated. "They've come to help you... but all they get is to watch you die! Too bad - they're just a few wee little minutes too late!"

_Oh, like hell they are, you idiots._ Barbossa's panic had vanished and he had his wits together again. It was possible that his friends were going to save his life, but he knew it was much more likely he was just going to drown. Since either way he wasn't going to the _Dutchman_, as far as he was concerned, Jack and Elizabeth had succeeded already. As Jones's minions pushed him under for the last time and stood on him, he reminded himself to pretend to struggle for a few seconds so that they wouldn't realize what he was up to. Then he just relaxed, and waited for everything to go dark.

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After their victim stopped moving and no more bubbles came up, the fish-people took to the water very abruptly. _Probably to report straight back to Davy about this little incident, _Jack predicted, but he didn't waste much time thinking about it. He was too busy trying to reach Barbossa's body in the (slim) hope that there was still time.

Even Elizabeth could tell long before they reached him that he was face down and not moving. "Jack, we're too late," she gasped. She was completely winded but still found the breath to sob.

"Never say die, love," Jack answered, half to himself. He reached the body and flipped it over, which had no effect whatsoever except to make bloody ripples in the water.

Elizabeth looked away, needing all her strength to fight the urge to collapse next to him in hysterics. "Jack…"

"_No_. Nono, absolutely not, I said _no_!" Jack dragged Barbossa to the sandbar and splashed down next to him in the wet sand. "Elizabeth. _Elizabeth! _Get your ass down here _now, _woman!"

Her instinct had been to back away and avoid the unpleasant spectacle of Jack going to pieces at the death of a good friend, but when he snapped that command to her, he didn't sound one hundred percent irrational. Panicking, desperate maybe, but still… not unhinged. He was together. She went down on her knees beside him and tried not to look down.

"I'm here."

"Breathe for him!" Jack ordered urgently.

"Do what?"

"Breathe," Jack demonstrated an exaggerated inhalation, "for _him_." He pointed down.

"I- I don't understand-"

"Give him air!"

Well, Elizabeth knew what _that _meant, at least - she'd heard it said often enough for fainting women. She leaned back to give them some space, but that only seemed to frustrate Jack more.

"Oh, bugger," he muttered. He made several unhappy faces and flitted about from one angle to another as though looking for the one that was least objectionable, then just bit the bullet and did it himself.

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Elizabeth went bright red. "Oh. _Oh_. That's what you..." Jack was holding Barbossa's nose closed with one hand and had the other on his chest, where he could feel the rise and fall of the air he was forcing in – through his _mouth_. Elizabeth understood the genius of it but also couldn't bite back an unsteady giggle – she was lightheaded and distraught and it looked so very much like they were kissing.

Jack's head shot up. "Not funny," he said grimly, wiping blood off his face. "It's not working." He tried again for a few more breaths, then paused to listen. "Come on, mate, breathe," he whispered, his tone teetering on the edge of _urgent _and _panicked_. "Breathe. Once more, then," he muttered, bending down.

He put his mouth on Barbossa's one more time and a moment later was completely drenched when the captain exploded like a geyser.

Barbossa was most definitely not dead.

Elizabeth was so glad to see him alive that she couldn't bring herself to look away. On the other hand, he was in such a sorry state that she could hardly bear to watch, either. She soon began to believe that seeing him writhe in the mushy, bloody sand at her feet was even worse than seeing him drown in the first place. He was truly a mess. The force of his retching pulled him up from his back to his side, and he lay curled up, clutching at his stomach and convulsing beyond control. Elizabeth hovered uncertainly, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder as much for her own sake as for his, but blood was cascading down from someplace and she didn't want to accidentally touch the wound. Eventually he passed from vomiting to choking. No more water gushed out, but he seemed unable to draw a successful breath – he would gasp in great gulps of air and cough them right back out again with horrific violence.

Elizabeth still couldn't find her voice, but she finally put a hand on Barbossa's waist and gave a little squeeze to let him know that somebody was there. Jack just sat and waited it all out patiently. When Barbossa was finally able to quiet down, suck in a few deep breaths and prop himself up on an elbow, waterlogged and exhausted, Jack flipped a dripping lock of hair off his face for him. "You almost drowned, there, mate. We would've had to turn that ship right around and go back for you."

Barbossa's eyes were even more bloodshot than usual as he squinted up at him. "I'm alive?" he asked hoarsely.

"Had us scared for a minute, but yes."

Barbossa noticed then that there was something not quite right about Jack's smile. Warm, concerned, almost maternal. Elizabeth was sitting with her hands over her mouth, still looking shocked, and then he had a thought...

He poked his tongue around for a moment, tasting. He wasn't sure because his mouth was full of his own blood, but… "Please tell me it was Elizabeth who..."

"Fraid not."

"_Eughh_! You should have just let me drown." Barbossa rolled away and dragged himself up to his knees, flinging water all over with every movement. _Ignore the shoulder. _He felt for his flask but it wasn't there. "I need something to rinse my mouth out with."

Jack looked him over for a moment and wrinkled his nose. "So do I." His eyes lit up. "And I have just the thing!" He dove for Elizabeth and tried to kiss her.

"Eughgh! Jack!" Elizabeth was still so weak with relief that it was all she could do to hold him at arms length, laughing.

"_Yarrr_! Me first!" Barbossa heaved Jack out of the way and launched himself into her lap. He was alive. Before she could think better of it, she put her hands to his cheeks, not minding all the blood, and helped him rinse his mouth out.

He rinsed it well enough that Jack felt obliged to turn away and clear his throat very vigorously.

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TBC.

((grins)) Couldn't resist, mate!

For those of you not down with mild(ish) Elizabeth/Barbossa makeout sessions, you may want to skip the next chapter ;o)

Which I will post as soon as possible, for love of those few awesome readers who leave me thoughtful reviews every time they read. Unlike the bulk of ya lurkers :o/

Yarrr!


	31. The pirates play telephone

**A/N:**

Brunette-Goddess-89: Wow, Barbossa just lost about 20 of his fearsomeness in my eyes. Calling him Barbie is a stroke of utter genius and I still can't stop laughing. You go girl!

Why is everyone so eager for Beckett to get iced? I love him, he's such a creep!

I can honestly swear I never intended this to be a Barbossa/Elizabeth fic. I still don't. All I can say is, they have a mind of their own, and every time I put them together... Well, stay tuned, you'll see what happens.

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Elizabeth parted her lips a little and Barbossa took that as an invitation to slip her quite a lot of tongue. She found herself unsurprised. And not at all unhappy. She eased him down on his back, pillowing his head with her arm, and settled down sideways in a feeding-grapes-to-Caesar sort of pose that would have struck Will as completely improper. (She told herself that it was mostly so she could keep better pressure on his bloodspewing shoulder. Besides, he really _did _need to rinse out his mouth after Jack's antics. Besides, she was about to be married, and then it would be too late, and if she didn't now she would probably always regret it. So it was all right.)

At first it was quite a rush to be reclining over the powerful Captain Barbossa and giving him a very firm and authoritative kiss, while he just kissed back and purred with pleasure. At first it was nice. But after all his teasing about temptation and losing control, she soon found she was starting to get impatient with his unusual passivity. At the exact moment that thought crossed her mind, a hand suddenly came up to the back of her neck. He found the energy to lift her off him, sit up, and lay _her _down on _her _back. He was practically lying on top of her, the full length of his body pressed against hers, and Elizabeth felt a shudder that had nothing to do with the chilly water or with fear. _This is more like it. _Against all her best intentions she reached an arm around him, holding him tighter.

His beard was tickling her. He tasted very strongly of blood and was getting blood all over her, but strangely enough she didn't mind any of it. Later on she would look back and thank her lucky stars that Jack had been there, because God only knew what her momentary lapse in judgment might have led to, right there on the beach, if they'd had privacy.

It was he who eventually broke it off, rolling slowly off her and onto his back. Elizabeth sat up. "I'm so glad you're all right," she whispered, reaching out gently to wipe some of the sand and blood off his face.

"So I see." While her kiss was certainly pleasurable, it had not been quite enough to eclipse the lightning bolts of pain radiating from his injury. "Now tell me: how bad's this little pinprick? Ask Jack."

Jack, who had been doing an excellent impression of blind and deaf for the last few minutes, reanimated immediately. "Shove over, Lizzie, let's have a look." He sat Barbossa up, unbuttoned his shirt carefully and poked around for a moment, grimacing when he saw the flash of bone. "Not so bad, it's an awful lot of blood though," he said. Half of it was the truth, anyway. "Let's tie it up and get you back to the ship. I think I heard guns, there must be some kind of battle, but I can't even tell who's fighting who."

"Sounds like just your cup of tea," Barbossa growled. His good mood at being alive (and reaping the rewards that followed, mmm) was rapidly deteriorating in the face of the misery his wounds were bringing him. He winced at the thought of the rusty, moldy weapon that had inflicted the big cut. "And I thought that _last _one was infection," he muttered.

"Can you use it at all?"

He found he couldn't seem to lift his right arm, but he just gave a one-shoulder shrug and said, "I'm sure once someone's in front of me with a sword it'll work fine."

Jack and Elizabeth both donated their shirts to whip up a bandage. Barbossa was eyeing Elizabeth's undershirt. "Don't you dare say it," she warned. "If we need more cloth we can cut up _your _clothes for a change."

He grinned at her. "Oh, is that any way to treat a-_OH_! _Ah!_" He shouted and tried to jerk away, but Jack held him still. "Jack! What the devil are you-"

"Hang on." Jack held up a bloody hand and dropped something in Barbossa's lap.

Barbossa picked it up to examine it and almost threw up. It was a _live _hermit crab. "Didn't need that running around in there, now, did we?" Jack asked brightly.

"Well, you might have warned me first," Barbossa grumbled as Jack continued to wrap him up. "And you might tie that a little ti- _not that tight, _God, the Kraken probably has a lighter touch than you. Inconsiderate whelp, I should throw ye into a barrel full of jellyfish, _with _Lord Beckett, now how would you like-"

Initially, Elizabeth's instinct was to fuss over him and possibly hold his hand, but all his griping made her think it wasn't even necessary. "Are you really all right? Doesn't that hurt?"

The pirates both looked at her, surprised. Jack answered first: "Not at all. It's just his constant sunny disposition that makes him behave like this, love."

Barbossa lashed out with his fist and missed Jack's face by a hair. "_Arrrr_," he growled. "Are we done yet?"

"Yep, that'll do it." Jack helped him to his feet and got him dressed while Elizabeth pulled his sword out of one of the dead fish-people for him. She retrieved his knife too, but he told her to keep it.

"I've got two others on me person as we speak," he explained, "And we don't know who we'll be fightin out there, so best all of us be prepared, don't you think?"

She carefully wiped the blade clean of blood and stuck it down the front of her bodice for easy access. She glared preemptively at both pirates in turn. "And I don't need any comments about _that_."

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What the _Black Pearl _was doing made no sense whatsoever from the standpoint of naval strategy. One minute the pirates were fleeing full-speed out to sea, the next they were coming around, looking almost as if they wanted to fight but instead veering off at the last moment and sailing _past _Beckett, heading back towards the island the way they had come.

At one point the ships were so close they could fire guns at each other, but the pirates made no move to do so. They let loose with the cannons on the way past, but otherwise simply ignored Beckett's attempts to fight. They hit the deck when the bullets started, and a moment later had got past and were suddenly moving faster, _much _faster than Beckett would have expected them to be able to go.

"Follow them! After them! What's going on?" He was reminding himself that losing his temper meant losing face with his men, but it was no good.

Mercer was suddenly by his side. "So what do you think they're up to, then?" he asked easily.

Beckett whipped around. "I've no idea; do you?"

Mercer nodded sagely. "Somebody's reminded those boys that we have an awesome power on our side... one that can operate solely in the deep water... and they're on the run from it."

"The monster? You think I should call for the _Dutchman_ nowIt seems like a waste..."

"Not if they're getting away from us, it's not." Mercer was as calm now as he was when he read poetry by the fire, or slit someone's throat in the dead of night. "I think it's worth it, sir. Show these pirates a thing or two, eh?"

Beckett nodded. He was vain enough to dislike having his arms look like he'd been mauled by a lion, so this time he pulled up his shirt and drew blood from a cut just beside his navel. "If he doesn't answer quickly I'm afraid I'm going to lose my t-"

The _Dutchman _was already breaking the surface. Beckett was so pleased it didn't occur to him to wonder what Jones was doing so close to the island that had been expressly declared off-limits. "Is it too shallow here to call your beast?" he shouted across.

"Too shallow," Jones agreed.

"That's too bad." Beckett smiled coldly. Deciding it was not dignified to holler like a fishwife, he turned to Mercer and said quietly, "Tell him just to come with us himself. Tell him we'll simply have to kill them by hand. Tell him sorry – we know they're his friends and all. "

He watched Jones carefully while Mercer relayed the message. Was it his imagination, or did Jones look a little more on edge than usual? _Well, _Beckett thought to himself, _it's not my fault I can't read him, he's a bloody octopus for God's sake._ Hmph. Because he didn't want to be outdone by his advisor (again), he didn't ask Mercer what he thought.

So both ships went off in pursuit of the _Black Pearl_. The _Dutchman _was a fair bit faster than Beckett's ship, and it gained on the _Pearl _much quicker than the _Pearl's _crewwould have hoped.

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After they made their U-turn and were sailing past a hail of bullets from Beckett's ship, Will was taking cover behind a barrel until he noticed that Jack (the monkey) was sitting up a ways in the rigging, bouncing up and down and screaming with outrage. _He doesn't like the noise, _Will thought, and for the first time felt a flash of sympathy for the little beast. _Perhaps I won't let Jack shoot him any more..._

But suddenly that made him think: _For all we know he's not immortal anymore. _If Jones had already dropped his Aztec piece in the chest, then he should most definitely not be sitting up in the rigging while they were being shot at, should he.

Will jumped up and climbed after him. Bullets whizzed by his head the whole way, but he miraculously got the monkey by the tail and dragged him to safety before they were shot. They cowered together behind some boxes until the ship was out of range and the shooting stopped.

As soon as he stood up, Will found himself face to face with a shocked and disgusted Former Commodore Norrington.

"You just risked your life for a _monkey_," Norrington said incredulously.

"Not just any monkey," Will explained. "That is the treasured pet of Captain Barbossa. If anything happens to that animal, he will gut us. All of us." That was half of the truth. The other half – that he had begun to feel sorry for the poor creature – was not something he thought it particularly advisable to advertise.

Norrington was sick and tired of everyone treating the captain like a volcano god whose unpredictable wrath must be constantly appeased at peril of life and limb. He rolled his eyes and shook his head and snapped, "Oh, spare me. That pirate has turned you all into a pack of cringing slaves and it's embarrassing to watch."

Will laughed outright. With a new sword in his belt, his hair hanging loose, and a giant feathered hat on his head, he had never felt so confident or so free. "Whatever you say, mate," he said generously.

Norrington recoiled. "And you said _mate_!"

"When I start using _ye_, then we'll know there's a problem," Will laughed.

"Look!" Norrington pointed upwards, where their pint-sized lookout was shouting and waving his arms. They followed his wild gestures to a spot on the horizon. "That's the rowboat."

"And not a moment too soon," Will muttered. He had just noticed that they were now being pursued by two ships, not one, and that the _Dutchman _was gaining. "Albert? You might want to come down from there, boy, and get below."

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The rowboat and the _Pearl _crossed paths at a very bad time. Fighting with the _Flying Dutchman _was well under way, and due to the pressing need to fend off Davy Jones's bloodthirsty fish-people, they had had to borrow men from the oars and now the _Pearl_'s speed was suffering. Beckett's ship would catch up too, soon, and it would be two on one, and-

Will shook his head and forced himself to snap out of it. "Lower a rope! Let them climb, we don't have time to fetch up the boat," he ordered. He turned to Gibbs and gave instructions, without stopping to wonder whether he was actually in charge. "Rack the oars, hard to starboard, and pray that Jack's done his job! In the meantime... keep fighting!"

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Down came a rope. "They've got to be joking," Jack muttered, shooting a look at Barbossa's blood-caked bandage.

"Worry about yourself, Jack," Barbossa advised. "You first. Then Elizabeth, then me. As soon as you get up there, talk to Davy, start sorting things out with the _Dutchman_, beforethat other ship gets here."

Jack went up without difficulty. Elizabeth went next, exhausted from the day's trials but still at a fairly quick pace.

Barbossa lagged far behind. At first he could hook the rope around his injured right arm as he shifted his left grip higher, but eventually that hurt too much and he was reduced to using his teeth. It hampered his ability to growl curses, which made it much more difficult for him to climb.

By the time he reached the top, the _Pearl _had been boarded not only by Davy Jones's crew but also by Beckett's. Mass chaos reigned on deck. He could hear women screaming, and he wondered who in their right mind would waste time going after civilians when there were so many actual enemies that had to be taken care of. He saw Jack and Davy shake hands on something and heard Davy bellow some new instructions to his crew.

He saw Elizabeth's father - not wearing his wig, amazingly enough - fencing quite daintily with one of Beckett's men, and found a moment to roll his eyes.

Then he took out his cutlass and got busy.

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Fighting both Jones's crew and Beckett's was very difficult for the pirates, even with the wholehearted assistance of Norrington's men and some of the captives too, but fortunately they didn't have to do it for very long. Soon after Beckett's men boarded, Jack came up and reached an accord with Davy.

As soon as they'd shaken hands, Jack grabbed a nearby pirate and instructed him: "The fishies are now _helping _us kill Beckett's men, all right? Fish helping kill Beckett's men. Good fishies, nice fishies. Spread the word."

Some people got the right idea. For a while Jones's crew and the pirates were working together. "The fish are helping kill Beckett's men!" Jack shouted the reminder again, trying to avoid confusion in this massive battle with so many opposing sides.

A nearby pirate nodded and took it upon himself to spread the word. "The fish are helping Beckett kill his men! They are _helping Beckett kill his men. _Spread the word, everyone!"

Others took the message and began to repeat it... but missed a few parts. Soon it was echoing all over the ship: "The fish are helping Beckett!"

Will had been fighting back to back with a man with a shark's head. They turned and exchanged puzzled glances. "No they're not," Will said.

The sharkhead hesitated. "Are we? Maybe we are." He let go of the soldier he had been gnawing on and flashed Will a bloodstained smile. "Sorry!"

Will left off fighting Beckett's men in favor of keeping Sharky's teeth out of his throat.

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TBC.

Not crazy enough for you yet? Don't worry - it gets crazier.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. You guys make my day with your awesome comments, and you really do give me ideas about what's to come.


	32. Lord Beckett gets his kiss

A/N: For those of you who don't remember, Ragetti is the pirate with the popout eyeball, and Pintel is his coiffuricly-challenged friend.

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It seemed that some of the fish were still helping the pirates, but after three different ones attempted to kill Jack, he decided that Jones's crew had turned on them and therefore strategy had to be revised.

"Oy! Hey! Stop it! _CHANGE OF PLANS!_" Jack bellowed at the top of his lungs. "It seems the fish are now bad! Bad fish! _KILL THE FISH_!"

Gibbs began to ring the bell to get everyone's attention. "_KILL THE FISH_!"

"Kill the..." Elizabeth had been wrestling with one of Beckett's soldiers, trying to keep his sword arm away from a fish-person who had fallen to the deck. When she heard the announcement, she instead helped the man drive his blade _into _the fish-person. But then the soldier turned on her, leaving his sword where it was, and attempted to strangle her with his bare hands.

He might have succeeded had not someone pulled him off and thrown him ten feet through the air. Elizabeth pushed her hair back out of her face and turned to her rescuer to thank him...

Some rescuer. "_You_," she breathed, backing away. "I know you, I saw what you did, Will's father told me all about you – you're sick." It didn't occur to her that calling a man who was half coral reef "sick" was a little silly.

The bosun laughed. "I likes to have me fun, if that's what you mean."

She thought of the men she had seen bleed at his hand. "On my word, you've had your last _fun_." Her voice was so low and guttural she was surprised he heard it.

"Little lady, I'm about to have some right now." His trusty whip was coiled over his shoulder, but he opted to attack with a sword pulled out of a nearby dead man.

He was stronger, no doubt about that. But thanks to all the coaching she'd had lately, Elizabeth could tell immediately that she was the better swordsman. She defended herself, waited for him to make a mistake, and in the opportune moment, slashed a deep wound into his thigh.

The bosun howled with pain, but to Elizabeth's shock, the enormous gash that would have a man bleeding to death in minutes was not enough to stop him for long. He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, and used his other to withdraw her blade and throw it away. She heard it clatter on the stairs, but there were pressing matters. Like how to get this creature _off _her. He was pinning her arms now, and of all the people fighting around them there was nobody she could shout for help from, but luckily she knew all about how to handle this situation.

She headbutted him in the face. His face was much squishier than Jack's, and she got him hard enough to make something that looked like a cross between a jellyfish and an eyeball pop out and wriggle to the deck. He let go of her, roaring even louder than when she had stabbed him, and she jerked away and made for the stairs to retrieve her sword.

She was almost to the top when she heard a whistle and felt her feet jerked out from under her. She cracked her head on the top step at the same time her stomach landed hard on the middle step. Dazed, with the wind knocked out of her, she tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs before she even knew what had happened.

She tasted blood. Her vision consisted of colorful fireworks. She couldn't yet draw in a breath.

Her ankle burned something awful, and an instant later she realized what had happened - the bosun had tripped her up with his whip.

The whip. She looked up just in time, heard the _whoosh_, and threw up her arms to protect her head. The blow caught her across her shoulder, chest, and forearm. For a moment she stood paralyzed, the sheer shock of it making her unable even to cry out.

A second later her body really registered it; the pain flooded through her in a warm rush, and she started to scream as only a girl can.

He laughed at her and pulled the whip back to do it again.

For one second his arm was upraised to strike, making his chest a perfect target. Before she even realized what she was doing, Elizabeth jerked Barbossa's knife out of her bodice and hurled it as Will had taught her.

She pegged him right in the chest. He froze. The whip fell from his hand. He staggered forwards a step and Elizabeth just watched, wondering if he would fall or not. Then all of a sudden he screamed, and jerked, and collapsed in a heap.

When he fell she noticed a very large sword sticking out of his back.

Elizabeth looked past him, and there was Will, waving.

"I told you not to baby me!" she shouted, smiling despite her best efforts.

"You're welcome!" They both laughed. But then Will frowned. "Look!"

"What?"

"Where's Barbossa going?"

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The chaos was complete. Everyone was fighting everyone else, fish-people and Beckett's crew and the pirates and Norrington's soldiers, and half the time someone looked to be helping you until the very last minute, and then changed his mind and tried to run you through.

So Pintel wasn't taking any chances. It was every man for himself, and anybody who stood in his path was going to get it.

He was chopping through people left and right, til one of them cried, "'Ey – I'm on _your _side!" as their swords clashed.

It was Ragetti. "Are you sure?" Pintel demanded while they continued to hack at each other.

"Yes!" Chop. "We're _always _on the same side, aren't we?" Parry.

"Then put down your sword!"

Ragetti ducked under a blow that would have taken off his head. "No! You first!"

"No, _you_ first! Or I'll poke out that other eye!"

"Oh, now that's not nice," Ragetti complained. He missed Pintel's shoulder by a hair, jumped over the stroke aimed at his knees, and lectured, "'Sides, if you did, I'd have to poke out yours right back. An eye for an eye, that's what the Bible says."

"_Grarrr_!" Pintel was more annoyed at the Biblespeak than at the sword blows. "The Bible also says you're not sposed to kill anybody – so stop tryin to kill me!"

Ragetti paused long enough to _tsk _at his friend reproachfully before stabbing at him again. "Now don't you start quotin the Bible, you don't really mean it, and that's blasphemy, that is."

They continued to fight each other until a fish-person lumbered over and attempted to kill them both. At that point, they immediately began working together, and from then on had at least that much straight.

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Jack took a break from fighting long enough to call out and get Barbossa's attention. He raised a bloody hand and pointed over to Beckett's ship. "That's him."

Barbossa looked. The battle was so fierce that Beckett had apparently deployed everyone, leaving his ship deserted except for one guard at the top of the stairs, and a short little man who couldn't be identified because he had a spyglass glued to his face. He wore a wig. Aha. Barbossa nodded at Jack, finished off the man he had been struggling with, and headed over. He felt awful, cold and dizzy and sluggish, but he knew he could gear up for this one more killin.

He ran through the melee, vaulting over pairs engaged in messy combat and stopping every now and then to strike a blow for some pirate in distress. He preferred to throw over his own grappling hook rather than trust someone else's, and though swinging with one hand was difficult, soon enough he made it to the other ship and reached the stairs. He took them two at a time, dispatched the guard who stood at the top, and reached Beckett before the fool even managed to turn around.

Barbossa had left his sword in the guts of Beckett's bodyguard and was not in the mood for a long hand-to-hand struggle, so he drew a knife and buried it to the hilt just below Beckett's shoulderblade.

Beckett gave a short, high scream and arched backwards.

Barbossa twisted the knife to open the wound wider. Stabbing people in the back was tricky - he was always of the opinion that since you often don't hit something vital on the first try, your best bet is to make the hole good and deep and then just wait for them to bleed out.

Beckett screamed again. Barbossa let go of him, leaving the knife where it was, and spun him around so they stood face-to-face. "Word is you wanted to meet me," he said conversationally. "Captain Hector Barbossa, at your service. Glad to make your acquaintance. Although it does look like our friendship will have to be a short one." He reached around to pull the knife out, and blood began to pour.

"N-no," Beckett breathed. That quickly, he felt his strength going, and it was only the arm around him that stopped him from collapsing. He lifted his head to look his killer in the face.

The pirate's smile was gentle, sympathetic, with only the lightest hint of mockery to it. "Fraid so."

All of a sudden Elizabeth was beside them, looking horrorstruck. "Oh my God- Lord Beckett? Here, let me have him." Barbossa dumped him in her arms and helped ease her to a sitting position. "Lord Beckett?"

He was limp and his eyes were closed. "_Cutler,_ please," he whispered. "Look at me."

"Cutler, then," she whispered back. Her voice was deserting her. Over Lord Beckett? Amazing. "Cutler, I'm so sorry."

His eyes fluttered open. "Is that...was he..." She couldn't make out the rest.

"Yes, that's Captain Barbossa," she answered. "My... well, my teacher, I guess."

He reached up to touch the tears on her cheek, and his face contorted with the pain of moving. "You st... ah... lot to learn."

She wiped angrily at her eyes. "Yes I know. I have no stomach for this. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He seized up and choked and it was a moment before he could speak again. She smoothed bits of his wig off his forehead. "Yes?"

"..." His mumble was completely unintelligible, save for two words: "...could have..."

That clue was enough to help her know what to do. "I understand, Lord Beckett. I'm really sorry things turned out this way..."

"C-C..." He couldn't even get out his own name.

"Yes of course. You made a fine adversary," she assured him, stroking him, not stopping to think whether it was the truth or not. "And you might have made a fine ally, too... Cutler."

He smiled at her, but it was ghastly because his mouth was full of blood. That meant it was almost finished, didn't it? Elizabeth leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He reached for her hand, brought it up, and kissed it in return. It was the last movement he was able to make.

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Barbossa had not stayed to witness his victim's final moments. Now that Beckett's men were leaderless, he thought it would probably be easier to get them all to surrender and stop putting holes in his pirates. Although it did seem that some of Beckett's men were actually _helping _the pirates against the fish-people. It was hard to tell... some of Davy's crew were fighting for one side, some for the other, and a very stupid few were fighting amongst themselves because they couldn't determine whose side each other was on.

All in all, Barbossa thought it was time for this battle to end. He knew he was fading fast and wouldn't last long enough to sort everything out, so he decided to pass the orders on to somebody else. He sought out his only lieutenant with a face honest enough for people to surrender to – Will. They met up on deck and fought their way to a space with a little quiet.

Will pulled the spyglass from his belt and held it out, but Barbossa shook his head and gestured for Will to keep it. "I'm going below to clean up," he said, a euphemism for rinsing out his wound and then fainting. "You're in charge while I'm gone. Put an end to this - Beckett's dead now, his men ought to surrender. As for Davy, I don't know what game he's playin, but if he doesn't rein in those monsters in the next two minutes, if I hear so much as _one _gurgley roar from where I'm sittin, it's curtains for him, is that clear? Now off I go. _Jack_!"

Jack followed him obediently. It was not the first time he had been called to stand guard while Barbossa fell into a state of near-death hibernation, but it was the first time he'd ever actually thought about what it meant, and he found himself touched.

Will was thrilled to be left in charge for two reasons. One was that, no matter how much he thought he disliked Barbossa, he could not help feeling proud that the pirate thought he was doing a good job. The second reason was that with both of the real captains occupied, there would be no one to stop him from doing something... incredibly... _stupid._

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TBC.

RIP, poor Cutler Beckett. You know, he's grown on me. I'm really sorry he's dead. Why did I kill him? Damn it! Oh well.

About Beckett's death. I think Barbossa would certainly employ this method of removing somebody he wanted removed, and I think Elizabeth would not be happy about it. It's an important difference of opinion, and it's the sort of thing that makes Barbossa and Elizabeth not a feasible couple. Much as I may prefer Barbie to Will, I think that Lizzie is destined to become Mrs Turner after all.

Leave me some love!


	33. Jack tells the truth

A/N: Apologies for any typos, but I'll be gone til Thursday and I didn't want to leave the update til then. Surprise me with a review for when I get back!

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Jack overrode Barbossa's mumbly orders to take him to the hold. His instinct, Jack knew, was to crawl off into the darkest, most deserted place he could find and then hide until he felt better.

It was probably less dirty in the cabin though, and less far removed from the action, and all in all a much better hiding place. So Jack cleared everyone out and ushered Barbossa in, lecturing him the whole while about what a bad idea it had been to join in the fight. He relented and stopped lecturing when he saw how bad off his friend really was. "Don't you even worry about it, mate," he said, "We'll get you straight to Tia Dalma and she'll work her magic for you."

"Don't need no more witchery," Barbossa growled. "Just some rum and some sleep."

He was ash-grey and his eyes were glazed over. _Humor the invalid, _Jack thought. "That's right, mate, lots of sleep, you're going to be just fine." He doubted they would be able to stay on their feet long enough to rebandage the wound, so he just cut off Barbossa's shirt (it was much too stiff with blood to even _think _about removing in the normal way), lay him down, and poured an entire bottle of rum over him.

Jack didn't like the way Barbossa completely failed to react to the burn. Tough was one thing, but shock was another story. "We might have to cauterize that, mate."

"I find I don't care in the slightest little bit what you do or don't do," Barbossa answered. "Just let me sleep, or I'll kill you. Where's my gun?"

Jack sighed and handed over his own pistol. "Yours is out. Give it here, I'll clean it for you."

Out of habit Barbossa reached for it with his right hand. His eyes rolled back in his head. "Try not to do that anymore," Jack advised aloud, even though Barbossa was unconscious.

When Barbossa came out of it a few minutes later, his first words were "Where am I?"

"My cabin - _our _cabin, rather, sorry - on the _Pearl_. Things are dying down up top. I hear Davy clumping around, I think Will's got it all under control, we won, everything's all right."

Barbossa frowned. "Will? What on earth could have possessed ye to leave Turner in charge?"

"_You _left Turner in charge. You have no idea what's happening right now, do you?" Barbossa was watching him with a confusion that reminded Jack of the time they had smoked an opium pipe.

"What?"

"Exactly." Jack patted him on the head and stood up. "Go to sleep."

"Tell me, Jack: am I still losin blood?"

"No, but you've lost enough for one day, trust me. Go to sleep."

"No. I don't like it here, I'm thinkin under the table might be better." Barbossa made a move as if he were going to try and get out of bed. Jack put a stop to that by grabbing him by the shoulder and giving it a good squeeze.

He passed out immediately. Jack waited around a moment to be sure that he wasn't about to wake back up, then went outside.

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As soon as the fighting had stopped, Will organized the deck: The pirates sailed the ship. The civilians were herded into a group and watched over by some of Norrington's soldiers. The rest of Norrington's soldiers were guarding Beckett's men. Norrington himself had to stand next to Will, who conspicuously waved a pistol at him every few minutes to ensure that the soldiers would continue to be cooperative. Davy Jones also stood near Will, all set to tie up loose ends and get his heart back, but Will insisted that the rest of the _Dutchman_'s crew depart at once because they were scaring the human beings.

Davy agreed to send his crew away, but he did _not _agree to the return of Governor Swann's wig. "_He _decided to throw it. If he wants to use his filthy hairpiece as a weapon that's his business, but he can't go and ask for it back. Besides, look at it, half of it's already digested."

Will looked. The wig was stuck to a moldy creature whose funguses had already started to peek out through the curls. Will hated to set a precedence of giving in to Davy Jones, especially if there was more negotiating to be done, but he had to admit that the wig was a lost cause. "Fine. Keep the wig. And I agree that you should stay aboard here until everything's sorted out, but the rest of your crew has got to go. People keep fainting."

With a gesture Jones sent them away, then told Will that it was time to conclude the parlay and give him back his property. Will thought as fast as he could about a way to stall him, but before he came up with anything workable, he was saved (as usual) by Jack Sparrow.

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Jack pranced out of the cabin and took stock of the situation. The fighting was over. Wounded people lay everywhere, making all sorts of unpleasant moaning noises, and Jack squashed his impulse to have Davy just take them all away.

Beckett's ship was deserted and anchored but the _Pearl _was sailing away from it, back towards Isla Cruces with Will at the helm.

The _Dutchman _was keeping pace with them, vaguely threatening. Jack saw easily from the state of the crew that further battle was out of the question. Davy had to be made to disappear now, permanently and peacefully. Either that, or he had to be quietly killed. But no more fighting.

Jack skidded to a stop right in front of them, threw his arm around Will and gave him a big noisy kiss on the cheek. "Wonderful job, mate, I'll take it from here."

"Fine, yes, go down there, it's quieter." Jack was busy thinking and didn't notice how eager Will was to shoo him and Davy away from the wheel.

When they had staked out a spot on deck to talk in, Davy went first. "Give me the heart."

"Relax," Jack soothed, "I'm going to give it to you. It's here, it's safe, let's just finish talking first."

"What else is there to talk about?" demanded Jones over the squelching of his tentacles.

"Well, for starters, what of Beckett's ship?" Jack crossed his arms. "Technically we were the only ones _consistently _on the winning side; therefore, the ship should belong to me."

"To you?" Davy repeated. "First of all, _if_ you keep the ship it belongs to your captain, to the ship's _real _captain, the _sane _captain, the one who does not get himself mutinied upon in two measly years."

Jack did not look offended. "Semantics," he said easily. "Point is, we keep Beckett's ship."

"No."

"Aw, come on, mate, you know you don't need it. And you owe me for all the times you tried to kill me."

"I saved your sorry life just now, at least three or four times, while we were fighting!" This was true. Dismayed to see that half his crew was fighting for the wrong people, Jones had sought out the one pirate on whom he could count to be rational and intelligent for an explanation. Instead of explaining, Barbossa had just let him know that Jack was actually carrying the heart _on his person_, which people were currently trying to puncture with swords and bullets. Jones had spent the rest of the battle side by side with his least favorite pirate in the universe, protecting him. It left a bad taste in his mouth that even the memory of feeding Jack to the Kraken couldn't erase.

In any case. He didn't particularly want Beckett's ship for himself, but he was pressing hard for it, as a negotiation tactic. He could offer to trade it for the things he _really _wanted: an immediate unconditional return of the heart together with a promise to never seek it out again, his pick of the battle's casualties, and a parting on good terms with Elizabeth, who was an entertaining little creature he had every intention of seeing again sometime. He remembered from somewhere that women are like flies in that you catch them more easily with honey than with vinegar, so he was trying to keep the negotiations amiable. He gestured to the ship with his good hand and said, "Sparrow, it's a valuable thing, I'm not going to give it to you for nothing."

"Fair enough, mate. I have an idea. D'you happen to have those dice of yours handy?"

Jones was not thrilled with the proposal. Everyone had heard. Now he had the unattractive options of either backing down, or losing at his favorite game. He played for time: "We'll decide about the ship later. First, we agree on everything else."

"Easy. You can have your bloody heart back. No hard feelings though, savvy? You go your way, we go ours, nobody looking for revenge. Agreed?"

"I also want your wounded."

He caught the horrified look that flitted across Jack's face. "Well, you can talk to my wounded about that, then. You can't take them against their will."

"Of course not."

Long pause. "Well. Deception, then, eh? Davy Jones, I challenge you. Are you ready?"

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Will was still at the wheel while the game was being set up. Elizabeth came and tried to pry him off. "Come on – they're going to play right now, you have to watch. It's amazing."

It was good to see her smile again. "Feeling a little better?"

"About Beckett?" Elizabeth got serious. "No, not yet. I think that might take a while. He just _murdered _him, Will, you wouldn't believe it, I watched him walk up and-"

"Look, I know – he just walked up and murdered _me, _too. You have to remember, he's not like us. He's a pirate, they don't have a conscience."

"Jack does." She thought about it. "Sometimes."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Will said, and meant it. Even if he didn't _like _the unnatural closeness that had developed between his fiancée and a bloodthirsty pirate, he wouldn't want to see it destroyed at the price of her happiness.

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Well, I still want him at the wedding," she said, a little defiantly. Will got the impression that it was her own conscience, and not him, that she was defying.

He let go of the wheel long enough to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "You could have the devil himself at the wedding if you wanted. On the day we are married, Elizabeth, you can have anything your heart desires."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she teased, but he could see that she was still feeling a little down.

"Go on and watch your Deception game," he urged. "I've got to stay here."

She went off, and he heaved a sigh of relief that she had not thought to ask _why _he had to stay at the wheel or what he was planning to do.

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Jack could read people like none other, and worse, could hide his own thoughts completely. Davy knew it. He decided to get creative: they threw the dice, and Davy pointedly did _not _look at his before he said "Two twos."

Jack grinned at him. "Living on the edge, are we? Two sixes." He had not looked at his dice either.

Davy liked to consider himself a brave man, but upping the bid at this point before he even knew what his own dice might be was crossing the line between bravery and stupidity, wasn't it? He checked his dice.

No sixes. Call Sparrow a liar?

No, that would be premature - he had no reason to think Sparrow was lying yet. "Three fours," he said. He only had one but he doubted Jack would call him on it.

Jack looked at him, smiling, for a long moment and Davy failed miserably to guess what he was thinking. After Davy's beard started writhing in irritation, Jack finally dropped his eyes, still smiling, and peeked under his cup.

"Four ones."

Davy had one one. Call Sparrow a liar now? How likely was it that Sparrow had three ones of his own?

With Sparrow, one could never tell. Davy shook his head. Why chance it? "Four fours." He watched, amazed, as Sparrow lifted his glass again and peered into it. Squinted, looked closer.

"Oh, scuse me," he said, sounding surprised, "It seems I don't have any ones at all. Your dice are pretty dirty, mate, I can hardly read them. Four _sixes, _that's what I meant." His grin had turned blatantly mocking. _You have no idea what my dice are or what I'm thinking, _that smile said.

Davy didn't believe him. Not at all. However, _he _had three sixes himself. If Jack had even one, then (unintentionally, of course) he was telling the truth.

So Davy shrugged. Shot in the dark: "Five ones."

"Five twos," Jack fired back immediately.

Enough was _enough_! He was just picking numbers at random, wasn't he? _Liar _was on the tip of Davy's tongue… but Jack's smile was still hovering and Davy lost his nerve. He had three sixes, so his best bet at this point was sixes. "Five sixes."

Jack's grin faded. "Sorry, Davy." He actually did look sorry. "I'm going to have to call you a liar, mate."

Davy swore a blue streak. "Damn you, Sparrow, damn you and I hope Beckett's ship sinks on you!" When Jack started to laugh, Davy banged his claw on the table. "And what's so funny?"

"What's so funny," Jack explained, "Is that you don't know any more than I do whether or not there are enough sixes under here to back your bet. Yet when I tell you I think there aren't, you believe me! And you of all people should know better than to believe anything I say."

That cheered Davy up a little. "A good point, Sparrow. I think you're lying. I should have called you liar when it mattered. Let's look."

Davy showed his three sixes, but when Jack moved his cup, five twos showed their dirty faces. Five twos! Jack had been telling the truth on that last bet.

Five of _anything _was an excellent hand. "I didn't have a chance," Davy realized, aloud.

Jack shrugged. "You win some…"

"And others, you play with Jack Sparrow." Davy pushed his chair (box) back and shook his head. Jack leaned over the table to shake his hand.

"Good game, mate."

"You can have that damned ship, Sparrow, it's right over- Ho! Where are we going?"

They both looked around. Jack jumped up. "Sit tight, I'll fix this. Will! _Will Turner, _you bloody idiot, where are you taking us?" He shoved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the Deception game and got within speaking distance. "Will?"

Will shook his head and tightened his grip on the wheel with one hand. With his other he drew a pistol. "Sorry, Jack."

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Jack could hear Davy thundering towards them. "Might I suggest you explain what the devil you are doing," he hissed to Will.

Will's eyes were wild. "I'm running us aground."

"In my ship? I don't think so," Jack sputtered, but nobody heard him because Davy Jones stepped up and, his voice completely flat, said: "Boy, you're a dead man."

"Not another step closer, either of you," Will warned, waving the pistol in Jack's direction, "Or I'll shoot."

Jack raised his arms slowly. "Will, son, the heart is in my jacket. Right on top of _my _heart, to be exact."

"And I'm really sorry about that, Jack," Will said without lowering his gun. "I don't want you to get hurt. So I think you should help me keep Jones right where he is until this ship hits bottom."

"And what happens then?" Jones spat. "I'll disappear, will I?"

"No, probably not," Will allowed. "But I bet you'll forfeit whatever magic has been protecting you til now, and then I'll put a bullet right between your eyes and that'll be it for you. If you're a religious man - which I doubt - I suggest you make your peace with God now."

"Why, you filthy little turncoat." Jones's voice was hoarse with outrage and disbelief. He looked over to Jack. "Sparrow. The game... you were distracting me! It was all part of your miserable plan, wasn't it!"

Jack whipped around so fast that his hair ornament poked him in the eye. "You'd be surprised at how rarely one can describe my actions with the word _plan_." He didn't even have to paste on his Honest Face; this time he was really telling the truth. "I swear I had no idea he was going to do this."

The whole time Norrington had been standing silently beside Will. He had been trying to feel glad that the pistol was no longer being pointed at _him_, but in fact he found the situation intensely distressing. Will Turner as the good man turned murderer, the avenging angel gone wrong... who'd have thought?

"You _should _have had an idea," Will told Jack savagely. "I've made no secret about this the whole time. I intend to kill Davy Jones for what he did to my father and almost to me. How many times have I said that? I'm a man of my word, Jack. It might not be something a pirate like you can understand, but I made a promise and I _will _keep it."

Norrington thought that the gun pointed at Jack's chest might hinder his ability to argue, so against his better judgment he decided to step in himself and attempt to avert catastrophe. "I also would like to consider myself a man of my word," he said calmly, "And I am most definitely _not _a pirate, but even _I _know that there are some promises which should not be kept."

Will glanced over at him for a tiny split second. Norrington took that as a good sign and continued: "I made a promise to go after Jack Sparrow if it took me the rest of my life," he said, "And you see how that's turned out for me."

"You mean that it's ruined your career? As if that matters! Shame on you, Norrington." Will turned on him with the full force of his colossal blazing righteous fury. "What matters isn't the, the _material_ results, it's your, you know, your conscience! It's how you judge yourself, how you feel about what you've done. It's your ability to look at yourself in the mirror. To sleep at night."

Norrington wanted to scream out _That's exactly what I mean, you idiot, look at what's become of me! _but he had a lifetime of training to repress these urges and the skill did not desert him now. "I know," he said quietly, and made hard eye contact until Will got the message.

"Oh," Will said, his sense of moral outrage fading. Now he was simply confused.

Jack took over again. "No one regrets what happened to Bootstrap more than I do. But killing Jones won't help, and besides, it's not even really fair. It wasn't his fault. And besides, you're trying to do it in _my _ship, and I really-"

"And besides," Norrington added, much better than Jack at fathoming the thoughts of a man in a moral crisis, "Your father would hardly want you to become a cold-blooded murderer for his sake, now, would he."

Will stared at him in wonder. Oldest line in the book... but... it was true. "I can't believe I'm falling for this," he muttered, and stepped away from the wheel.

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TBC.

Sooo. Crisis averted, and yay for Norrington. Next chapter we get more Barbossa – awake and lucid again, and with a great big earful of Elizabeth to deal with.

I'm still not sure whether Barbossa is going to let Will's little tantrum go, or if not, whether it's Will or Elizabeth he goes after. Hmmm.

Things are wrapping up. Four chapters more, perhaps. Something like that.


	34. Norrington doesn't need a kiss

Norrington took charge of the wheel at once. Elizabeth, who had taken a break from helping the wounded in order to watch the drama unfold, released her death-grip on the bloody rag she was holding and went back to what she was doing.

Jack intercepted Davy's furious rush forward and tried the one thing he thought would calm the squidman for sure: he just up and handed over the heart.

The heart. _It. _There it was. Davy shuddered when he saw it. He reached out for it with his good hand, and put the heart in one of his pockets – it might be _safer _to stuff it into his coat the way the pirates were always doing it, but he didn't think he could bear to feel it beating against his chest. There. Now he had it. It was safe.

He wanted to kill Turner and to go get his heart to someplace even safer as soon as possible. But he also wanted to say goodbye to Elizabeth, and after a moment's thought he chose that option over the others.

He found her kneeling over a soldier who had a punctured lung and a pulsating mass of sea scum growing into a wound in his throat. Out of habit Davy found himself assessing the man's condition as a possible recruit. Hmm. With some excellent medical care and a little luck he might live, but right now he was choking and wheezing and would almost surely take an offer if Davy were to make one...

"So I guess this is it, then," Elizabeth said, holding her patient's hand and trying to help clear his airway. "It's been... interesting to know you, Davy." She looked up. "I should tell you, you're going to be needing a new bosun, sorry. You might think of choosing somebody with a heart this time."

He could see that she hadn't mean anything personal by the comment, but he couldn't resist chuckling, "I find having a heart to be overrated."

"Really?" Elizabeth looked back down to what she was doing. "Well, I find _I_ never have to go gallivanting about in a panic looking for _my _heart. But suit yourself, I suppose."

"Hmph. And there's that mouth again." On impulse Jones knelt down beside her. "Let me see that." He grabbed the injured man's head with his claw and wrenched it around to face him. The man squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering with terror. "Look at me." Hyperventilation but little else. "Open your eyes if you want to live!"

That worked. The terrified soldier opened his eyes and Davy stared into them. Yes, the wounds were probably survivable. But he was suffocating. Davy put his good hand across the soldier's throat and let a little tentacle slip down from his sleeve to go exploring in the wound, absorbing the scum one of his crewmen had left growing there. He kept their eyes locked so that he could better judge how much of the slime remained.

At last he sensed that he had absorbed it all. He withdrew his appendage and then touched it to the hole in the soldier's chest, clogging it up with a little patch of muck.

The hideous wheezing sound ceased immediately. Davy looked at Elizabeth. "Leave it for now so he can breathe, but when he's better you ought to carve that out."

She nodded, feeling very warm and fuzzy that she had inspired Davy Jones to do what was probably his first good deed in years.

"There," she teased, "Was that so hard?"

"Certainly not – or I wouldn't have done it."

They stood up. He was waiting for her to speak. She sighed. "Davy... you can't set foot on land, and I'm probably about to have a pack of children and never set foot _off _land again, so... this really may be it."

"Aye. So it may." He reached out, overriding the stern orders he had given to himself at least four times today, and touched her on the cheek.

"I hope you'll think about everything I said to you."

"And _I_ hope you'll give that contemptible boy the all the care that his devotion deserves. Much as I can't stand him."

She stepped up and initiated a farewell hug. He hugged back, which was fine, but then a bit of his moustache came up and traced over her lips, leaving a trail of fishy slime. She flinched and he slapped it away. "Ach, sorry."

"It's all right." She held him at arms length and looked at him one more time. "Goodbye, Davy."

"Goodbye."

He was in such a good mood that he grabbed the injured arm of Elizabeth's father as he walked past, sucking the slime out of his little cut.

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Once he was gone Elizabeth wiped at her face. "First Beckett and now _him_. I need something to rinse my mouth out with," she muttered, looking around.

Jack was at her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed him come up. "Sorry to disappoint you, love," he said, "But Barbossa is otherwise engaged right now. You'll have to make do with me."

"Very funny, Jack." Elizabeth forgot all about rinsing out her mouth. "How is he?"

"Alive. Or was the last time I checked."

"That bad? I want to go see him. I know he's asleep," she overrode Jack's interruption, "And in fact that's better. I don't really want to talk to him right now, I just want to sit with him a bit and make sure he's all right."

"Sorry. Can't let you do that, love."

"What? Why?"

Barbossa always claimed that Jack had to babysit him simply as protection against being murdered in his sleep. But Jack was nobody's fool. He knew that it was also critically important to the captain not to be seen by anyone, including and especially friends, while he was weak and helpless. And of course, Jack realized, it would defeat the whole purpose if he went and said this out loud to Elizabeth. So he fished for an explanation, any explanation, and finally produced, "Because he's not... decent."

"Decent?" Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up. "So now we've got an attack of modesty in a pirate, is that it? Jack, really. Besides," she added, "I've already seen him without his _skin _on – what more is there?"

It was a good point and it made Jack smile, but he did not relent. "Sorry, love, but he can't have company right now. Really. Why don't you go entertain your poor terrified father instead?"

She found it adorable that he was so protective, but that didn't stop her from muttering under her breath: "the lovesick puppy strikes again."

Of course Jack could never let her have the last word. He pitched his voice high and waved his arms around parodying a damsel in distress. "Oh dear, oh me, oh my, we can't _leave _him, Jack, oh no we have to go _back _for him, we must, we have to run our heads into the noose-"

"Oh, be quiet! I notice you don't have a single scratch from that little adventure."

"Well, I'm Jack Sparrow," he reminded her. "What do you expect?" He couldn't help but smile – she was charming when she fumed! And, even better, she was willing to accept the whole blame for turning around. "Oh, come on, love, don't be like that. Barbossa needs his sleep, but you can wait up for him if you want. First we need to clean up all these people. Then we loot Beckett's ship and figure out what to do with it. Then we'll get out some cards and just amuse ourselves til the beast emerges, eh?"

Her arms were still crossed. Jack tempted her further: "Come on, and I'll even tell you a story. One from a long while ago. One that Barbossa would gut me for sharing."

Well, some things simply could not be resisted. Elizabeth uncrossed her arms. "Fine."

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Elizabeth poked around in Beckett's cabin and found some things that disturbed her very deeply. She didn't touch them. She _did _take one thing for herself: a lacy dressing gown that she draped over herself to cover her shoulders and hopefully help wipe the agonized, scandalized expression off her father's face.

When she showed back up on the _Pearl _wearing it, Norrington greeted her jubilantly from the wheel.

"Well, there's a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed, smirking just a little. "Elizabeth in a dress!"

She didn't think it was funny. "Actually, it's not a dress," she explained, toying with the frilly ruffles. "We raided Lord Beckett's ship and believe it or not, this is what he sleeps in. I know it's a little strange for me to be wearing it considering we just killed him, but my father was practically going into vapors at what I was clothed in. He'll like this better than knickers, at least."

"Lord Beckett's?" Norrington frowned. "You're right, that _is _a little odd for you to wear." He was silent for a moment, wrestling with the question of propriety, then decided that propriety was a moot point where Elizabeth was concerned. "You looted my ship as well. Some of my things are down the hold. Come - you can wear one of mine. Mr. Gibbs!" He handed off control of the wheel and offered his arm.

They went down the hold and sifted through all the booty until they found his trunks. (He turned his back while she slipped out of Beckett's dressing gown and into his, which was ludicrous because underneath it she still wore the undershirt and pants she had been fighting in.) Elizabeth felt much better wrapped up in the clothes of a former fiancé than in the clothes of a dead man. "Thank you. Listen… James..." she reached up to cup his cheek.

He caught her hand and peeled it off, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "Elizabeth. I don't need a hug or a kiss or any speech to remember you by – I've got this." He opened his shirt a little to show her the cut she'd given him while asking for his second surrender.

She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that... James, I really am sorry..."

"It's fine," he said, laughing a little. "I'm glad of it, actually. Do you have any idea how bent up I was about being rejected in favor of a no-name blacksmith? But now I can think, _see, it's all right after all. She's a bloodthirsty wild animal, I could hardly sleep with THAT in my bed, now, could I._"

With a gasp of mock outrage, she shoved at him and stamped her foot. "I am _not _a bloodthirsty wild animal!"

"I know. But let me think it – it helps." A little sad, maybe. But not accusing and not bitter. She was surprised to see how much that meant to her.

"James... thank you." Impulsively she threw her arms around him and gave him a hard squeeze. He was pretty stiff in her arms - typical Norrington - but he did at least make an attempt to hug back.

She pretended not to hear the kiss he brushed over her hair.

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When Elizabeth came up out of the hold with _Norrington_ of all people, him resting a hand on the small of her back to steady her on the ladder, her with a familiar smile in his direction and wearing his dressing gown no less, Will found himself beginning to get a little jealous.

Will was a clever boy – he had already figured out that his fiancée had been up close and personal with Barbossa today. He had known it since the moment she climbed aboard the _Pearl_. He was hurt. She wasn't. Yet _she _was covered head to toe in blood, in a way that suggested that either: 1: she had poured a bucket of blood over herself and then stuck her face in to take a drink of it, or 2: she had given her injured hero a great big hug and messy kiss on the mouth.

Disgusting as the image was, Will really believed he would be able to let it go. After all, the poor man had nearly been killed, likely as not because he had been protecting her, and more importantly, Will knew it was a mistake she would not make again. What Barbossa had done to Lord Beckett would ensure that.

But Norrington was another story. _He _at least was not an unsuitable partner. _He _was not old, hideous, or completely amoral. _He _had something to offer beyond a dirty life on the run. _He, _in fact, had at one time been acceptable enough to her that she had agreed to marry him!

Will made up his mind. He liked to let Elizabeth have her way in most things, but this was where he had to draw the line. He didn't know what had gone on down there in the hold, and given Norrington's starchiness he guessed it was nothing beyond a friendly little chat and the loan of a dressing gown, but still. They needed to be clear on who stood where.

"Elizabeth? Can I talk to you for a minute?" He took her arm and pulled her straight back down the hold.

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Jack was sprawled out on the deck drinking when Will and Elizabeth re-emerged. He took one look at their disheveled appearance and gave them a smile, but before he could come up with a lewd comment Elizabeth beat him to it.

"Will is _not _a eunuch," she anticipated when she saw where his eyes had flashed to, "So whatever you were going to say about that, don't bother."

He laughed outright. "About time, eh? Pish-posh to waiting for the wedding."

Elizabeth gasped. "Will! The wedding…" she looked up at him, eyes shining. "Can we have it on the _Pearl_? Even before we go home to Port Royal?"

"Of course we can," Will laughed. "We can have it right now if you like…" he made a bit of a face. "Although I did always hope that you would be wearing a dress, not another man's sleepwear, but I guess I can't have everything."

Elizabeth stilled. "Well, I do have a dress," she said quietly. "There was one in Lord Beckett's cabin. I don't know why, but he had it brought for me."

"A dress fit for a wedding?" She nodded. "You mean Beckett was going to ask for your hand?"

"Oh, no, that's bizarre, he hardly knew me," she protested. "But yes, he did bring an absolutely beautiful dress, made to my measurements, on this trip. D'you think it would be bad luck to wear it?"

"I don't think he'd mind – he looked happier than I'd ever seen him, dying in your arms. Morbid as that may be. I'd love to have a wedding at sea. Will your father be all right with it?"

"My father! Will, this is perfect, my father's here and all his horrible friends are not. So he won't even have to feel uncomfortable about it, he can give me away and everything will be wonderful! Oh…Will…who's going to stand in for your parents?"

Then they looked at each other and just laughed. Who else?

"I suppose it _is _fitting," Will said helplessly, "Since after all, he did bring us together. By kidnapping you."

"Now, all we need is the one who can perform the ceremony..." She went over and nudged Jack with her foot. "You know, Jack, I seem to remember something about your being a..._captain _of a... _ship_…who can perform a _marriage_ right here on the deck."

He flashed her his best smile. "Ah, but when I said that, love, I was rather hoping you were going to reconsider your choice of groom."

"Jack!" Will looked honestly shocked, but Elizabeth put a hand on his arm.

"All right, all right!" Jack held up his hands in surrender. "I'll do it. After all, I do love weddings."

Elizabeth beamed at him. "Drinks all around, eh?"

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TBC.

Sorry we didn't see Barbossa yet; this chapter was longer than I expected. He'll be back, with a vengeance, possibly as early as tomorrow but definitely Friday otherwise. I'm like 85 decided on how he handles Will's attempted murder jag. Hint: he doesn't just let it go.

And as to what happened between Will and Elizabeth in the hold… given the rating, I'll leave it all to your imagination.

Review for me! All that's left to tie up is the wedding and the little trip home. Let me know what you think!


	35. The beast emerges

A/N: Somebody asked about **how you play Deception:**

This is how I've always played it. You have five dice apiece and you can see your own but nobody else's. You start off: "two threes," for example. That means you're guessing that between the dice of all the players, there will be at least 2 threes. The next player has to either call your bluff and demand that everyone show their dice (which would be stupid, because it's pretty likely that there will be 2 threes somewhere), or up the bid. He can up it by either betting on a higher number: two FOURS, for example, or making a bigger (riskier) prediction: such as THREE ones or FOUR fours. Jack bets on sixes whenever possible, which is a smart move because when he says "four SIXES," six is the highest number on the dice, so Davy's only options are call liar or up the bid to five of something, which is a riskier bet.

It gets very complicated when you're playing in cahoots, the way Elizabeth and Barbossa were playing earlier. You can't swap secrets and technically you're not supposed to communicate at all except for making your bets. You run into the problem they did, where Barbossa's bluff fooled not only Davy but also his ally Elizabeth.

It's a pretty fun game.

**Oriana8**: Oooh, you brought up the S-word! What a bad girl(boy?)! In fact, despite all my very best intentions I _have _been thinking of a sequel lately. It takes place ages down the line, when Lizzie has a 19-year-old son, and her beloved husband has just recently perished (being a hero, of course. How else?). I HATE writing sequels, I find I always develop monster writer's block halfway through them, so I probably won't. Let's finish this story first, and we'll see if I can resist the lure of an even older, crustier Barbossa. He's very... persuasive. But I have excellent resistive powers. We'll see.

* * *

The change that eighteen hours of sleep had wrought in the captain was amazing. He was lucid, had managed to partially dress himself, and was now capable of staggering in an almost-straight line out into the sunlight.

Jack looked up from his cards and a smile lit his face. "'Ello, beastie."

Elizabeth, though, had not seen him at his worst and thus did not realize that this was an _improvement_. She gasped and took a quick step towards him, all ready to fuss, before she remembered that she was supposed to be avoiding him. She resolutely turned her back and did _not _ask how he was feeling.

Barbossa looked puzzled. "What's eatin her?"

Will answered him. "She saw what you did to Lord Beckett."

Barbossa walked towards them slowly, trying to figure out what that meant. "Beckett? If she had a problem with me killin that cockroach she ought to have told me so before I did it." He reminded Elizabeth's back: "I told you I had it in for him."

Elizabeth turned to glare at him and forgot to continue with the silent treatment. "Well yes but I thought... I didn't think you were going to stab him in the _back_!"

Barbossa was silent for a moment. "So ye would not object to my killin him, so long as I did it while I was fightin him face to face?"

"It sounds ridiculous when you put it that way, but... well... yes."

"I see." He paused. He asked, in a tone of perfectly innocent curiosity: "If I did it that way, would he be any less dead?"

"Don't make fun of her," Will cut in. "She's absolutely right, there's a difference between killing somebody, and _murdering _them in cold blood."

Jack had to interject his two cents too. "A lesson _you _learned all of one day ago," he pointed out, "when you were about to run Davy Jones aground and kill him while we were in the midst of a playing a friendly little game together." Nobody noticed Barbossa's double-take at that little tidbit of news.

"In the end I didn't do it."

Elizabeth took his arm as a show of support before continuing the conversation. "I understand what you're saying," she told Barbossa. "If you'd fought Beckett fair and he'd hurt you, you'd be stupid. I'd be distraught. I know that. I know you did the smart thing." She wondered how best to convey the whole notions of kindness and morality and respect for human life to a pirate in a few words. "It's just... not very empathetic of you. How would _you _like someone to do that to you? It's uncaring, and cold in a way I don't like."

Barbossa looked to the sky for patience. "Have I ever said to ye - suggested, even - that I ought to be called _empathetic _or _caring_? Has anyone? Ever?"

Elizabeth thought about it and realized that that was fair. "Wishful thinking," she said at last. "I suppose you did what's right by pirates. I'm sorry I was upset about it." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished into the cabin.

He stood staring after her, his hand brushing over where her lips had been.

It took him at least thirty seconds to notice that she'd kicked him out of his own cabin – again.

* * *

Barbossa resigned himself to spending the rest of the day lurking on deck. He asked around about the events he had missed, then looked for a spot to pace in. The ship was fairly crowded but a space magically opened up for him, because it was clear that he wanted to be alone, and now that he looked like the living dead everyone was even _more _afraid of him.

He had been getting his wish for barely an hour before Jack appeared and took it upon himself to start up a conversation. "You know when you've really succeeded with a student, mate?" he asked out of the blue. Barbossa produced a look of disinterest that was not convincing, so Jack continued: "When they take everything you've ever taught them, and tell you to go straight to Hell with it."

"Well, I seem to have had total failure where you're concerned, then." Barbossa did not sound at all playful. "Because here you are."

A moment passed in silence. "Here I am," Jack agreed, then returned doggedly to the topic he had come to discuss. "It was going to happen eventually, you know that."

"What, Elizabeth? I suppose so. It was all an accident, you know - I didn't mean for her to take to me."

"Or you to her."

A beat. "Best watch yourself, Jack."

"Who - me?" Jack laughed. "Preaching to the choir, mate, honestly. But don't fret over dear Lizzie, she's not quite... you know... one of us. Almost, but not quite."

Barbossa glanced over at him, noting how his hands and face were almost black with dirt. "And we thank Heaven for that," he muttered.

"I have to say, you really did a good job with her. Another three or four weeks and she wouldn't have cared who you killed or how. You could've gutted Beckett with a grappling hook and she would have just made eyes at you and said, _teach me._"

Barbossa didn't think so, but he kept his mouth shut. He thought that if he defended the strength of Elizabeth's character it would sound like he was besotted with her... which he was _not, _thank ye kindly. So he just shrugged and gave a noncommittal "Mmmm."

But Jack was smiling and looking altogether too crafty. Barbossa suddenly realized that Jack had trapped him on purpose: Defending Elizabeth's autonomy would have been the natural comment to make, and that by _not _making it, he had just admitted to Jack that he had something to hide where his feelings for the girl were concerned. Sometimes Jack was entirely too clever for his own good. "_Arrrr_."

Jack seemed to feel that he owed him for that little trick, so he asked how the shoulder was doing and then gave him a chance to scold. "I shouldn't have gone back for you."

"No, you shouldn't. Although I can't say it surprised me." This was a bald-faced lie. "Ye'll never learn. You've made that mistake more times than I can count."

"Mistake, eh?" Jack faced him defiantly and put his hands on his hips. "Tell me you didn't stay behind purposely to save me and the girl. Tell me. And _then _you can give me a proper earful about how a pirate's first duty is to take care of his ownself and to blazes with everyone else. A speech I know by heart, by the way. But first you have to say you didn't stay to cover us. Look me in the eye an tell me you didn't."

Barbossa made eye contact immediately. "I didn't," he answered without strain. "I wouldn't get in the boat, and I thought: well, there be no reason for the rest of them to die just because… now what was it?... just because I'm _afraid of fish_."

There was nothing in his voice or his manner to suggest he wasn't telling the truth, but Jack cast a suspicious glance his way anyway. Barbossa tipped his head back proudly. "Call me a liar."

"Last time I called you a liar we were playing Deception," Jack reminded him, "And I won a whole season's treasure off you."

"Aye, and the time before that we were _not _playin Deception, and you were fifteen years old, and I beat you bloody."

Jack winced at the memory, but he didn't give up because he knew he was on to something. "You could have run. You stayed on the beach and stalled them on purpose."

Barbossa gave up arguing with him and just pointed out, "You're just as guilty – you came back."

Jack suddenly found (to his intense chagrin) that gruff half-admissions of friendship were not going to be enough for him this time. Praying that Barbossa wouldn't hate him for it, he leaned out of slapping distance and confessed, "I couldn't leave you."

Barbossa was caught off guard and for a split second it showed in his face. He took a deep breath found the strength not to bite Jack's head off and throw him off the ship. Instead, he took out his dagger and started picking at the railing with it. It took him awhile, but eventually he managed to answer, "Considering I bet Davy for your freedom, I can hardly give ye the lecture ye deserve, now can I."

Then there was a long silence during which Barbossa did a lot of thinking. "Jack..." he began heavily.

Jack could read his tone so clearly there was no need for him to finish. "Yeah. We're in a lot of trouble, mate, aren't we."

* * *

But they didn't get to finish their talk just yet. Will had been watching their conversation, and from the captain's unusually approachable and non-fearsome demeanor he drew the wildly inaccurate conclusion that this would be a good time to talk to him.

"Excuse me. Captain."

They both turned to face him. "I don't know if you've heard the news," Will said to Barbossa, "But I thought I should mention this anyway: when you went below, I cleaned up the battle as you said, but..."

"- But you disobeyed my direct order to make peace with Davy. Or rather, you made peace and _then _tried to kill him. I must confess meself surprised."

Will's jaw dropped. "How did you-"

"Your Navy friend." Barbossa grinned. "You didn't think I'd believe you or Jack about what happened, did you?"

"Well. Be that as it may... I wanted to apologize. And also to make sure that... you know, that things are all right between us."

Barbossa knew what he was getting at, and in fact had used up a good portion of his brooding time on this very subject. He slung his arm about Will's shoulders. "I'd _like _to forgive ye, Mr. Turner," he said sweetly. His tone made Will's skin crawl. "But as I recall, there be some very specific promises on the books about what would happen the next time ye crossed me. Promises. I'm sure you understand."

"Norrington managed to convince me that not all promises need be kept," Will answered immediately.

Barbossa noted that the boy's verbal riposte was coming much quicker these days. Good for him. Not that it would help him this time, though. "Norrington? You don't seriously think I'd take advice from _him_?"

"You won't harm Elizabeth." Will swallowed. "You won't."

"Wrong answer, mate," Jack purred from beside him. "If he still wasn't sure - which I doubt - then you just decided him in the wrong direction."

Barbossa hissed orders to several pirates. He stayed where he was, motionless, burning into Will with his eyes until the pirates came back.

They were carrying a big slab of some fancy stone - true to form, they had looted Beckett's ship so thoroughly they had even stolen his desktop. They set it down on the floor with an ominous _thump_.

Will and Barbossa still just stared at each other. Understandably, given it was his neck on the line, Will broke first. He jerked his head towards the stone without breaking eye contact and asked, "What's that for?"

Barbossa was glowing with malicious amusement. "A chopping block."

"Snip, snip," Jack added. "Now you'll _really _nail that aria."

Will began to sputter incoherent and horrified protests.

Jack was much more articulate. "You are a slimy snake," he breathed to Barbossa in wonder. "You've been planning this for the longest time, haven't you, just waiting for the boy to give you a reason."

"Aye." Barbossa toyed thoughtfully with his earring. "I thought about doing it even before we set out, you know, just so there would be no questions where everyone stood."

"It's good you waited." Jack bit his lip. "Can you really do it? She'll scream."

"Count your scars, Jack." He paused. "Take young William downstairs and lock him in the brig. I don't want him to see til it's done. And Jack... do it right. Don't you dare spoil the surprise. _Elizabeth_!" She came when she was called and Barbossa dragged her in front of her fiance. "Take one last good look at Elizabeth as she is now, Mr. Turner. Then go on below and cover your ears."

_Go below_? It took a moment for the command to register with WIll.The _snip, snip _was a joke, then. Thank God.

But then Will realized that he was in effect rejoicing in the news that it was Elizabeth and not him who was to be the subject of whatever torture Barbossa had in mind. _Over my dead body,_ he told himself clearly. His confidence that the captain would not harm her had completely evaporated. "Captain please, whatever you're going to do, it's me that offended you, not Elizabeth, she didn't do anything, _how can you_-" Jack was dragging him steadily away and finally just clapped a hand over his mouth.

Barbossa glanced at the assembled crew members. "You know what's coming. Get it all ready."

"Aye, captain."

Barbossa was in a wonderful mood. The boy's panic was hilarious and he knew he could trust Jack to just make it worse. After years of amusing himself on a ship where his closest social equal was a monkey, Barbossa found that having a partner-in-crime made all nastiness just that much more fun. "Now..." He offered his arm. "Into the cabin, miss. We'll talk first."

* * *

"Cheer up, mate," Jack told Will from just outside the bars. "It's not really your fault - he would have found some excuse no matter what. Did you really think he'd let her off scot-free after the way she got to him?"

"I obviously have no idea what to think where Barbossa is concerned. Jack... please tell me what's going on." Desperate as he was he kept his tone civil. He was still shocked at what Jack had done to him and did not want to provoke him again.

Jack watched him rub his elbow. "Sorry about the arm," he said gruffly. "You should have just got into the brig like I told you."

"I never figured you for the bullying type," Will snapped, annoyed and embarrassed at how easily Jack had twisted his arm behind his back.

"Maybe Barbossa's rubbing off on me," Jack shot back, equally annoyed about the little fight. Will had sucker-punched him when he wasn't ready, and then refused to be corralled into the cell until Jack gave him some really painful incentive and even then, he'd continued to struggle until his elbow made a soft _pop_. Jack sighed. "You're an idiot, mate. Do you really think he's going to hurt her?"

"How should I know? If you'd just _tell _me..."

"... it would defeat the whole purpose of the punishment, and then Barbossa would be furious at _me _instead of _you_. Sorry, darling, not going to happen."

Will crossed his arms. "A hint, Jack."

"Why don't you guess?"

"The _first _time I provoked him it was because I thought he'd taken advantage of Elizabeth. I'm trying hard not to think about that again..." he waited for Jack to assure him that that was not a possibility.

Jack was not very helpful. "Does it still count as 'taking advantage' if the girl... oh, never mind, it's not the sort of thing a eunuch would understand anyway."

"Jack!"

Jack at last took a little pity on him. "Oh all _right, _I'll tell you it's not that. Oh, don't look so relieved! At least she'd probably enjoy _that_, this is going to be far worse."

Will was so worried that he didn't even get offended by Jack's comment. "I can't believe this. We were going to have him stand in at the _wedding_."

"You probably still are. Elizabeth's funny like that." Jack used his sleeve to polish one of the bars, evidencing not the slightest concern about what was going on upstairs.

"Jack. It's me. It's Will. Come on, don't do this to me. It's killing me."

Jack had found he was quite enjoying his part in the torment. "That's the idea."

"He'll hurt her, he won't hurt her, you keep implying different-"

"Maybe I don't know."

At that moment they heard the first of Elizabeth's ear-piercing shrieks of pain. "And there you have it," Jack said over the noise. "Sounds like he's decided to hurt her after all."

* * *

TBC. So Barbossa has gone after Elizabeth. A shame in a way, because I had a pretty funny scene in mind for what he would have done to Will, but one can't have everything, now, can one.

Leave me some lovin'!

Obviously, next chapter will be less talk and more action: we'll see what happened to dear Lizzie. And we'll get a little flashback story. But don't worry, there's not a whole lot of gratuitous violence.


	36. Will earns a draw

And now: what happened to dear Elizabeth. I'm honestly shocked nobody guessed it...

* * *

Elizabeth went on the offensive as soon as they were alone. "You have been a perfect gentleman to me, from the very start when you were a skeleton and I was a prisoner whose name you didn't even know," she declared. "And since then it's only gotten better. We've risked our very _lives _for each other, Captain... I refuse to believe you'll let anything happen to me now just to frighten your crew."

"Touching." Barbossa turned away from her to adjust his bandage beneath his shirt. As soon as he thought his voice would be steady, he snapped, "Would it have really been so hard for you to step in?"

"To stop Will, you mean?" She shook her head. "I force him to respect my independence, so I'd bloody well better respect his in return, don't you think? He had to decide for himself. I wasn't going to try and stop him."

Barbossa was slowly working his coat up his arms. "You understand the problem. The problem is I'm hearin a lot of -_mmn_- bets going on about whether or not Captain will -_arr_- keep to his word, or whether in his -_pphh_- infirmity -_arr_- he'll start lettin discipline go lax around here."

Elizabeth pretended not to notice the interruptions in his speech and didn't offer to help. She wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic towards him right now, and he would probably prefer it that way anyway, and besides, there were more important things on her mind. "I understand. So what are you going to do?"

"What I said I would."

"But... but you didn't say." He didn't answer, and she felt the first tickle of doubt. Panic wouldn't be far behind. "You'd scar me for life, you said. A fair bit of permanent damage... those were your words." He nodded. She backed away. "You can't be serious."

"Miss."

"All right, all right, of course you _can,_ but you aren't. Right? Captain – stop looking at me like that. I'm not afraid. You're not really going to... to..." She drew herself up. "All right, you win, I'm beginning to get a bit nervous. Only nervous, though – still not afraid. Now just tell me what's in your head."

Barbossa liked her for the same reason Jack liked the thump-thump. "I'll tell you what's _not _in my head," he offered coyly. "Silly William thinks I'm goin to beat you to pieces, but I've already told you, you're far too pretty for that. I see Davy's bosun already caught ye a good one." He gestured to the whip wound she'd gotten in the battle. The whole thing was raw and flaming red, with just a little blood oozing up near her collarbone. "One's enough, is it not?"

"One's plenty, Captain. And it made me realize I owe you some serious thanks for the way you handled things last time."

She was making very large doe-eyes at him and he wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. "You're most welcome. Sadly, though, I won't be handlin things that way again."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "How, then?"

"It's probably nearly ready now, so I'll show you. Come." He led her out on deck, explaining, "I almost thought better of this after your...oh… _malaise _over the passing of dear Lord Beckett. And then I thought, it's hard to guess what Miss Elizabeth is thinkin, so maybe I'll show her and we'll go ahead with it."

The rumor had spread that some punishment was afoot, so a small crowd had gathered on deck to watch the goings-on. Elizabeth was relieved to see that her father was not present.

Norrington was. He looked at her and pantomimed a question: _do you need help_? Unlike Will, who would have just rushed into all danger in an absurd yet impressive attempt to pull her out, Norrington made sure to check first that he wouldn't be making the danger worse.

She couldn't let Norrington get involved in this, so she had to reassure him somehow. She shook her head and, when she was utterly certain Barbossa wasn't looking, fluffed the feather on his hat and rolled her eyes. _Pirates_, she mouthed, shaking her head. Norrington at first looked mildly horrified to see her treat the ship's volcano god like a troublesome child, then relaxed when it appeared she had gotten away with it.

Barbossa took her to the stone slab, which the pirates had surrounded with metal things and lit a big fire on top of. A large open flame on a ship? Had the captain taken leave of his senses?

It was as though he had read her mind. "The wind's calm today, it's not so dangerous as it looks. Now look at this: Jack stole it while the two of you were pokin around in Beckett's office."

He reached for an iron that was in the fire and even before he withdrew it she knew what it was.

The pirate brand.

This was not something that she had foreseen. "N-no," she managed at last.

"No? I hadn't realized I was offerin you a choice." He set the brand back down in the fire and Elizabeth was able to speak again.

"No," she repeated. "Captain, please, don't do it. I'm deadly serious. You can't – don't you realize what it means? You'd be putting me in danger, in constant danger of being hanged, for a woman in my position I can't have– it, it would ruin my whole life-"

"Easy, miss," he chuckled. "Of course I would ne'er do it as it was done to us. I was thinkin I would put it back here-" he indicated the back of his shoulder- "where no one would see."

"_Us_," she repeated. "You're branded, too? I've seen Jack's but I never noticed..." Try as she might she couldn't picture him jailed.

He rolled up his sleeve. It was on the inside of his forearm, and unlike Jack's very neat little scar, it was a fearsome, sloppy mess. After all this time, she no longer needed to ask the question aloud - he could sense it coming and just volunteered the information himself. "I did mine myself, that's why."

"You mean...?"

"I mean I held it in one hand and touched it to the other and lo and behold, my hands weren't steady enough."

"Why?"

"Why wasn't I steady?"

She gave him a reproachful look. "Be serious. If you tell me about yours, I promise I'll at least consider it."

He hid his smile. He had known all along that Elizabeth's curiosity and her hunger for a good story would be his best allies and sure enough...

"All right. Let's take a seat and I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Captain Barbossa proposed a daring raid on a city that was far too well-guarded. He knew perfectly well that he was going to lose a whole heap of men. In fact, that was part of his plan. The crew had gotten a little greedy and reckless lately, and he wanted to make it a little more manageable by replacing some of these seasoned killers with a few new, timid young men who still had all their limbs and eyes.

So he gave his orders. Although he'd always had an amazing talent for motivating large crowds of stupid and hostile people, the crew sensed that they were being led into a death-trap and voiced some complaints. They never shied from a good fight, but this time they were afraid of being captured and jailed and then, a result of the brand that most of them wore someplace on their bodies, summarily hanged. Barbossa himself did not have a brand, and they seemed to feel that he was therefore in less peril on this adventure than they were.

At this point in his career, when every other word out of his mouth was _yarrr_ and he was scarred up so thoroughly his own mother wouldn't recognize him, there was really no point to refuse the pirate P, was there? He had no intention of attempting to pass for an honest sailor at any point in the future. So Barbossa shrugged and said, "If you faithless dogs are really afraid I'll forget which side I'm on, I've no objection to giving us a reminder. We have a brand, don't we? Bring it forward. Light up a fire. Well? Why're you all lookin at each other like schoolboys caught in the cookie jar? I've said I'll take that mark, and I meant it."

Awed, they set things up as he ordered. They offered him some grog to dull the pain, but he only rolled his eyes and fried them with his contempt. (In fact, he admitted to Elizabeth, he would have loved to take the grog, but he thought it unwise to attack himself with a piece of red-hot metal while drunk).

He was very proud of the speech he'd given them that day. A few choice words on the danger they were about to run, and then a reminder that _he _would be risking himself right there beside them. "Feast your eyes," he'd finished, so carried away with his own rhetoric that he didn't even think to feel afraid, "And see how your captain serves you with his own body. With his own burning flesh!"

He held out one arm, picked up the brand with the other, and pressed it in.

He didn't want to scare Elizabeth off, so he didn't tell her how absolutely debilitating the pain was. He told her that he had stood deadpan and silent - which was true. He did _not _tell her that it was because he was completely paralyzed, helpless, frozen long enough to shout to himself _Let go, idiot, or you'll burn through to the bone!_

At last he managed to throw the thing down, and stood staring at his arm for just long enough to ensure that his vision was clear and his eyes dry. Then he looked up and called out, "Satisfied?"

The ones who survived that raid stayed with him for the rest of their lives. He could count on one hand the number of times any of them had argued with him in all the years since.

* * *

When he finished the story, he could tell she had already decided. He wanted her to be sure. "Careful, now, miss. It's not something we can undo afterward. You didn't like what I did to your friend Lord Beckett..."

"Lord Beckett was not my friend," she said right away, "And just because one pirate will stab someone in the back doesn't mean that another pirate has to. Jack told me the whole point is doing what you want to do simply because you want to do it. Hang the rules, right? Look what I did to Jack – I killed him and then I sailed to World's End for him. I am a pirate. I have a conscience. To say anything else would be a lie."

"So you'll take the brand?"

"Ah... so I _did _have a choice." Her laugh was warm and teasing. "It's all right, you did scare me but I forgive you. I think this is a good idea. Now... tell me, is it better or worse than being shot?"

Barbossa contemplated his multitude of bullet and stab wounds and answered, "Depends how bad you're shot. In your case… It'll probably be a little worse." He told himself it wasn't really a lie. After all, _a little_ was subjective, wasn't it?

She nodded. "All right – I can do it."

"Where?"

"Well, I've been walking around here in my underthings but I suppose that will all change when I'm a great lady and all that. The shoulder is fine."

He guided her back towards the fire and helped her out of Norrington's dressing gown. "Will ye be able to hold still, or should I get some rope?"

The crowd was giving them a wide berth, but Elizabeth was still very aware of all the people watching her. If hecould _do_ it himself the least she could do was stay still for it! "I don't need to be tied."

* * *

Norrington interrupted the proceedings by shoving through the crowd and interposing himself between the captain and Elizabeth. He took her by the shoulders and told her, his voice low and urgent: "You don't have to do this."

She removed his hands gently. "First of all, yes I do – rules are rules. Second…" she lowered her voice, deciding that it was not something that needed to be shared with the pack of Port Royal citizens she was about to spend the rest of her life with. "…It's what I want. You know I deserve it."

"Elizabeth… pirates are… I mean…"

"A short drop and a sudden stop, right?" She laughed. "I've never forgotten that. James… if you could convince _Will _to break a vow… surely you can find it in yourself to give just this _one _pirate a chance, can't you? I promise I won't run about setting fire to Port Royal and looting my father's mansion. I'll be good. I promise."

_For me… as a wedding gift… _Norrington had sworn he would never fall for this again, but Elizabeth's enthusiasm was so enchanting that he found himself nodding and squeezing her hand. "If you wish. Good luck."

He backed into the crowd, frowning. Elizabeth had clearly not thought this whole thing through – yes, she was putting the mark where nobody would see, but here were two dozen of her future neighbors and hired help all watching it happen! _Well, _he thought, _in for a penny, in for a pound. _He would provide them with an alternate story – the crazed pirate captain brands a mark of ownership onto his beautiful young captive, perhaps – and force them to believe it or at least pretend to.

Next, Norrington confronted the problem of whether to watch or not to watch. He wasn't sure he could bear either way.

* * *

Barbossa went around behind her and opened the neck of her undershirt enough to pull it down to her elbow. He took the brand from the fire and held it carefully away from her with one hand while he moved her hair out of the way with the other. She was shivering. So was he, because he'd forgotten and used the damn right arm again, but it passed quickly. He touched Elizabeth's shoulder and asked, "Ready, Miss Elizabeth?" He hadn't meant to sound amused but he couldn't help it.

"Y-yes?"

"Let's try that again, shall we. And you might try breathin – it helps." He watched her shoulders drop as she relaxed. "Ready, Miss Elizabeth?"

She swallowed and raised her head. "_Yes_."

He put his bad arm around her, rode out the pain of moving it, and then pulled her in until her opposite shoulderblade was flush against his ribcage. "Deep breath, now, miss," he drawled. He felt her chest expand. He pressed the brand into her.

There was a tiny, reflexive jerk that he contained easily by squeezing her tighter. Then there was a pause during which he smelled the burn but she did not yet feel it, and then just after he pulled the brand away, she let loose a bloodcurdling shriek and pitched forward.

Barbossa dropped the iron into a water barrel so that he had both hands free. "All right, all right, missie, it's over," he said, laughing despite his best efforts.

She continued to scream and thrash, her back arched so far he was afraid he would do damage to herself. He took her by the upper arms carefully and turned her around. She was still going. He leaned close so that he could be heard over her noise. "Feel free to stop screamin whenever you can," he shouted into her ear.

She bit him in the shoulder – hard. He hissed. Fortunately it was his good shoulder, but still, she was so berserk that it hurt even through the coat and shirt.

Finally she subsided from screams into whimpers, and then they could hear Will shouting at the top of his lungs from down below. Elizabeth, coming back to herself now, looked around and noticed that everyone had come up on deck in response to the awful noise. The mark hurt something fierce and she desperately wanted to grab at it, but for one thing it was on her back and where she couldn't reach, and for another, grabbing on was probably not the best idea with a spanking-new burn.

She knew that doing something would distract her from it. Aha. There was her father, on deck now, in a panic and being held back by Norrington. That was something to do. She went over, forcing a smile for him.

Norrington used his sternest glares to get everyone to back up and give them privacy. He correctly predicted that Elizabeth would immediately assure her father that she was fine and in fact was _glad _to have the brand. This was not something that respectable Port Royal citizens needed to overhear. "Think of it as a memento of my disorderly youth, Father," she joked through her tears. "I promise I'll settle down after this."

Norrington let go, and Governor Swann adjusted his collar. "Well. You had just better," he said, trying to sound cross instead of still reeling with his fear for her. _Those screams… _He had almost fainted. "Come here, child."

He folded her into his arms, careful to hold her low across the back so he wouldn't accidentally touch the burn. "We'll have your nurse blow on it to make it better as soon as we get home," he murmured.

She laughed and then was really finished crying for good.

Swann let go of her and stepped back. "Oh, dear - where did your pirate go?"

Elizabeth looked all around and followed the crew's uneasy glances to the hold. "Will..." she breathed. Will was probably beside himself by now. There was no telling what Barbossa would say to him, but it was not likely to be comforting. She rushed off to get down there before one of them got himself killed.

* * *

"What have you done to her?" Will's voice was hoarse - he had literally screamed his throat raw when he heard her.

Barbossa heaved a sigh and moved slowly towards him until he stood just out of grabbing distance through the bars. "Upstairs, Jack," he said without taking his eyes from Will. "And keep Elizabeth out until I say."

"You're the devil, mate," Jack chuckled. He went.

"Well? Tell me if she's all right! Tell me now or I'll hunt you down, wherever you go, and, and I'll carve you to pieces, you _and _that filthy monkey of yours."

"The monkey… now that be a nice touch," Barbossa acknowledged with real admiration. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Turner. I said I'd scar her for life and I have. But other than that, she'll be fine."

Will shook the bars. "What's that supposed to mean? Unlock this door and I swear I'll kill you!"

"Thank ye, but in that case I think I'll keep the door locked." The captain held out a bottle. "Have a drink."

Will was holding on to the bars so hard his hands hurt. "Put that bottle down and come a little closer."

"Why?"

"So that I can hit you, without making you drop a perfectly good bottle of rum."

Barbossa laughed, amused and still in a too good a mood to be worried. He put his bottle down, and took a step closer. "Now listen, Tur-"

But Will hadn't been kidding. His hands shot out and just caught Barbossa's collar before Barbossa could jump back. He jerked him forward so savagely that his face smashed into the bars, then punched him as hard as he could in the shoulder. He was spot on – the bloodstain made a very clear target.

_Bet you regret it now, teaching me to always hit where it hurts, _Will thought gleefully. Barbossa crumpled and Will followed him to the ground. He knew he'd have a few seconds before the pirate could get himself together again, and he wanted to use them to take the keys away. Will was down on one knee, reaching through the bars fumbling around with both hands, when he felt Barbossa start to move purposefully towards him. So he gave up on the keys, and instead got a two-handed grip around Barbossa's neck and squeezed. "Unlock this door."

"Let go," Barbossa wheezed, "If y're ever plannin on walking again."

"What?" Will didn't ease up. All of a sudden he felt an unpleasant tickling at his heel. He looked down and saw why Barbossa wasn't fighting against the stranglehold: both hands were busy. One was holding Will's foot down and the other was holding a knife against the tendon behind his ankle.

Will's first instinct was to let go and jerk away, but he fought it. Running scared was not how one negotiated with a pirate. "If you cut me, I swear before God you won't leave this hold alive," he panted. He knew he was at a disadvantage – he was reluctant to kill people, while Barbossa could probably maim him any day of the week without batting an eye. Still, the longer he hung on, the less the captain would count on that reluctance. He could feel the cartilage creaking beneath his fingers. How long could a pirate hold his breath anyway?

"Your choice, boy." Barbossa managed to twist his head far enough to make eye contact. "But it's a mistake y'll regret for the rest of your long, lonely life as a cripple." He rasped in what air he could and then, eyes glowing, continued: "A life which – after Elizabeth runs off to World's End to find me – ye will spend wonderin… whether she and I are off sailin the seas together… or whether she just _died_ on the way."

Barbossa also knew how to hit where it hurt. Will was so enraged that his hands spasmed without his permission.

But although the choking sound the captain made was music to his ears, Will knew perfectly well he was going to have to let go soon. For one thing, although it killed him to admit it, Barbossa was probably right. For another, he suspected that as soon as his victim was unconscious he would let go anyway. Strangling someone to death after they'd gone limp was just not his cup of tea.

He squeezed for a moment more, savoring it, and then let go and stood up.

Barbossa let go as well, and sat back on his heels. "_Brilliant_," he snarled.

"Sorry." As the adrenaline faded, Will finally got a handle on most of his anxiety. If Barbossa could be down here taunting him, and there was still no ruckus up on deck, the chances that something truly heinous had happened to Elizabeth were minimal. He hated not to know for sure, but obviously behaving like a wild animal was not the answer. He took a deep breath. Barbossa was on his feet, holding out the bottle to him through the bars. "Thanks but I don't drink."

"You should start." The pirate's voice was a mess and Will actually did feel sorry. "You could use a little unwindin. And it's a shame when a man's wife holds her liquor better than he can."

"Wife…" Will took the bottle warily and uncorked it. "So someone's told you? We're going to be married here, on the _Pearl, _any day now."

"Aye. I heard." He took out his flask and watched Will expectantly. Will raised the bottle to his lips. "A toast, idiot." When Will still seemed unsure of what to do, he held out his flask. "To a long and happy marriage for Mr. and Mrs. William Turner."

They clinked bottles and drank. Will made a horrible face. "You drink this for _fun_?" Barbossa only shrugged. Will took another sip and swallowed it all down. It felt like he did better with the face this time…

Barbossa nodded at him with a knowing smile. "Aye, better."

"Smug bullying bastard." Will put the bottle down on the ground and clasped his hands behind his back. "All right – I've taken a drink, and you've made me miserable. Now will you please let me out to see Elizabeth?"

Barbossa laughed and took the keys out. "Fair enough, Mr. Turner. Run and see what's been done to your lady." He unlocked the cell, but as Will made to shove by him he grabbed his arm and growled, "Ye dare not make her feel badly about it. Or I'll give ye one to match."

Will's stomach was rolling slowly, and he didn't think it was the rum. He swallowed down the urge to vomit, and hurried past Barbossa to climb up on deck.

* * *

TBC…

Sorry, sorry, this was so long we didn't get to see Will's reaction yet! But don't worry, it'll be here soon. So will the wedding. (After, of course, Will gets a bachelor party of sorts.)

Nope, I'm not going to get into what Barbossa was really thinking, because I'm not sure. But I can totally see him doing it this way. I just don't know why. I don't think he would cut her hair – she's too pretty!


	37. Albert has a bad dream

They got up on deck and Elizabeth _tsked _reproachfully when she noticed that Barbossa's nose was bleeding. "As if you had lots to spare today." She ripped a strip from Norrington's dressing gown and held his nose closed. "Tilt your head back... that's right."

He was now at a very unimposing angle, but he still tried to glare at her. "Shouldn't you be seeid instead to the cubfort of Bister Turner?"

"It seems to me he's doing fine - all the damage is here on _your _side," she said mischievously. "Oh, well, you can't win them all."

"Biserable wench." He shooed her away and, holding his own nose closed now, took a quick look around to be sure that any eavesdroppers had registered her comment as affectionate teasing rather than insubordination. Things looked all right, so he turned back to the young couple just in time to see Elizabeth spin around to show Will the damage.

Elizabeth peeked over her shoulder. "Well? What do you think?"

Will stared. Even the pirates' most dire insinuations hadn't prepared him for this. This went well beyond "scarred." Elizabeth, _his _Elizabeth, had not just been permanently disfigured, she had been branded as a bloody _pirate. _In Will's eyes the brand was the epitome of shame and a mark of dishonor that could never be lived down or washed off…

Fortunately, he was too shocked to say or do anything just yet. His momentary paralysis gave him time to register _Elizabeth_'s reaction. And it was clear that what she was after was not commiseration or comfort after a horrifying ideal.

There was a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It was as though she wanted to be _congratulated_.

"What do I think? I think-" He whirled on Barbossa. "She asked you for this."

"She agreed, yes," Barbossa answered nonchalantly, checking the rag in his hand to see if he was still bleeding. "You'd best watch your tone."

As if he had any intention of reproaching _Elizabeth _for the way she had been so shamefully mutilated! Oh, he was enraged all right, but the throat he was itching to grab again was _not _hers. He now knew firsthand how good it felt to pounce and squeeze and God knew the corrupting bastard deserved it…

Will held still and took a deep breath before speaking again. He would _not _fly off the handle this time. First he would think things through. (And _then _maybe he would go for the jugular.) Elizabeth obviously saw the brand not as a punishment but as a decoration. And as a decoration – if he could forget its disgraceful implications – there was really nothing wrong with the little P on her shoulder, was there? Anyway, the important thing was that she was fine. Fine, and happy to boot. Right?

He felt simultaneously relieved for her and horrified on her behalf. But if she had taken the brand voluntarily then the horror would probably offend her, so he steeled himself to give voice only to his relief. "Elizabeth, it's lovely," he said at last. "Or rather, _you're _lovely with it. But these two pirates..." (he slapped Jack in the back of the head and only just barely didn't dare do it to Barbossa) "...should burn in Hell for the way they worried me. God, I'm so glad you're all right. Come here."

She went into his arms and the crowd, sensing that the drama was all over, began to disperse. "Oh! Will, I forgot - did you ask him about the wedding?"

Barbossa frowned and said, "Ask me what?" at the same time Jack smiled and nudged Will and whispered, "Told you so."

Will laughed helplessly and extricated himself from her embrace. "No, I'm afraid it didn't quite come up." He turned to the captain. "This may be an odd time to ask given we were just trying to kill each other and I'm considering trying to kill you again, but... Elizabeth and I are going to be married on the _Pearl_... and I was wondering if you'd stand in for my father."

Barbossa looked from Will to Elizabeth and back again. He blew his nose to be sure he could talk clearly this time, then: "It would be an honor."

"Splendid!" Jack danced around shaking hands with everyone delightedly. Governor Swann looked like a giant had come down out of the sky and stepped on his house, but Jack threw his arm around him anyhow. "Congratulations, Governor! We're going to have a wedding! This calls for a drink, doesn't it?"

Swann looked over at him, dazed. "Yes, Captain Sparrow," he murmured. "I believe it does."

* * *

Elizabeth asked to wait for the wedding until they were just a day or two off Port Royal. She pretended that it was because she wanted her first week of married life to be in a proper place instead of on a crowded pirate ship, but in fact her reasoning was much more practical: her burned shoulder hurt so badly there was no way she would be able to put a dress on over it just yet.

So they sailed on, the ship surprisingly peaceful given the number of rival factions aboard. Elizabeth was healing. So were most of the people who had been hurt in the wild battles. Except Barbossa - he was getting steadily worse, his injury severely infected and constantly oozing a fishy sort of pus that, in his humble opinion, was not at all natural and heralded bad things. But he told himself it would probably be all right, since they were going to see Tia Dalma as soon as they dropped off all their law-abiding passengers and captives at Port Royal. He was sure she would have something useful for him; she always did.

Besides, Jack didn't look too worried either, and Barbossa took that as a good sign. He was becoming more and more of the opinion that if his life were in danger, Jack would be trying to do something about it. And as far as he knew (which wasn't very far, but of course he couldn't know that) Jack was doing nothing. So he just bandaged it up and stumbled about the ship for a few days in a haze brought on partly by pain and partly by rum, enjoying the good weather whenever his head was clear enough for it.

* * *

On the night before the wedding, Will was so keyed up that there was no possibility he would sleep, so he offered to stand watch on deck while most everyone else got their rest.

Things were going normally until he felt a little tug on his coat...

"Captain Will?"

Will had long since given up on correcting the boy. "You're up late, matey," he observed.

Albert tugged again, so Will squatted down to be eye level. "Aye?"

"I...um... I had a bad dream."

"You did?" Will almost asked why the boy hadn't run to his mother, then remembered that he was at an age where running to one's mother was the peak of shame. He sat down on the deck and patted the spot next to him. "Come tell me all about it."

"I... um..." The poor boy was so nervous he could hardly get the words out. Finally he burst out: "In my dream I couldn't sleep an I came out here an I wanted a drink." He had to pause for breath. "I was just... um... standing there. There," he added, pointing to a spot on the railing. "And I dreamed that all of a sudden a ugly ship came _out _of the water - like a fish jumping out! From under the water! And _I wasn't scared,_" he emphasized. "Because I'm never, ever scared of dreams. But anyway I closed my eyes just in case. An I opened them again an I looked at it oh so careful! And, and, and..." he scooted very close to Will and lowered his voice. "And there was a, a _monster _watching me from the ugly ship! He was a seamonster man! And he went like _this_-" Albert brought his finger to his lips in a _shhhh_ gesture, "-and went away again. And it was so foggy I couldn't see the ship no more, and, and plus maybe my eyes were closed, and when I opened them up again the ugly ship was gone! It was a really bad dream, Captain Will. I didn't like the monsterman."

"I'll bet you didn't," Will murmured, trying to stare through the mist. "Listen...Albert... think very carefully for me. Had you ever seen the monsterman before this, er, dream?" He couldn't remember whether the child had been locked up safely away for the _entire _battle, or whether he might have caught a glimpse of Davy then. Because if he hadn't, then his perfect description of Davy's ship could only mean that it actually _had _surfaced and was even now prowling around them...

"Nope, never ever. And I hope I never see him again! Because he, um, he smelled bad!"

"Smelled bad?" Will stood up. "How do you know what he smelled like?"

"I, um, I, um, um, I don't know," Albert stuttered. "I guess it, it was a smelly dream, but, but I still wasn't scared of it."

"Right. Get below to where it's safe, _right now_, Albert, all right? You're doing fine, mate, just stay awake for a few minutes and make sure nobody else comes out on deck, can you do that for me?"

"I should guard the door?"

"Yes. Go _now_." Will herded him off the way he had come and then went to the railing alone.

Why did everything bad always happen on _his _watch? Will strained to see in the darkness but couldn't make out anything at all. Unless... no, that was probably seaweed. Well... He hated to wake everyone up for nothing. If only he could see a little better...

He suddenly remembered that Barbossa had left him his spyglass. Excellent. He whipped it out and opened it to take a look.

Instantly he was enveloped in somebody's very wet and smelly full-body embrace. His arms were pinned to his sides by a grip strong enough to lift him from his feet. Something slimy was around his neck and a cold, clammy tentacle was covering his mouth. He tried to scream but of course nothing could be heard.

"Evening, Master Turner," came the low voice in his ear. Davy loosed his hold on Will's neck and face for just a moment, and Will reflexively gasped in all the air he could hold. Then Davy cinched up again - but this time, he covered not only Will's mouth but his nose as well.

_Very bad_. Will thrashed and twisted what few inches he could, completely consumed with panic, until his face smashed into an icy brick wall. At the same instant, his eyes exploded with pain and his entire body became cold and wet.

He tried to thrash around some more and then realized that they were under water. Davy Jones had grabbed him and gone straight over the edge headfirst into the freezing ocean.

Underwater. In that case perhaps it was time to stop trying to chew through the tentacle over his mouth, as he wouldn't be able to breathe anyway. At least the gag would stop him from taking in water. It was also perhaps time to stop struggling, as while Davy Jones was undoubtedly an excellent swimmer, it made no sense to make it harder for him. The longer it took to get where they were going, the less likely Will would be to survive it.

Davy was using his legs and most tentacles to move through the water, which left Will's legs free. Will kicked, and when Davy realized he was helping, he released the punishing grip on Will's neck and held him only by the mouth-and-nose-plug and one arm around his waist.

"Almost there."

Will could hear him perfectly, but for obvious reasons couldn't answer. _Almost WHERE_, he might have demanded. What purpose could kidnapping him serve now?

He went cold(er). Revenge? Was Davy still sore over the near-detour onto the shores of Isla Cruces?

But before he could work it all out he found himself getting very dizzy and feeling sick.

Davy spoke again. "You'll last longer if you just go limp." A moment later, half to himself, he muttered, "Your friend Barbossa knows all about that."

If Will had been more together he might have thought to wonder when on earth the captain could have told Davy Jones his near-drowning story. He might have thought to wonder why the devil the _Pearl's _lookout had disappeared, or why Barbossa had left him his precious spyglass for no apparent reason.

However, since he was practically unconscious, he didn't think any of these things.

So when Davy hauled him dripping wet up the side of the _Dutchman _and dumped him on the deck amidst a crowd of pirates and friends who were cheering and shouting "_SURPRISE!" _...

He really was surprised.

* * *

Will stood up and wrung out his hair, relieved and outraged and excited all at once. "I don't believe this. I don't believe you people! Where's Jack?" He picked him out easily enough even in the near-dark of the _Dutchman_. "There you are. All your idea, isn't it."

"No comment." Jack threw his arm around Will and handed him a bottle of rum that was already half-empty. "This is your last night of freedom, mate. Best enjoy it while you can, eh?"

Will saw Barbossa. "And you approved this?"

The captain shrugged. "I'd like to assure ye that Jack throws a good party, but I must admit I've yet to stay sober enough to even remember one." He grinned and took a long drink from a bottle of his own. "It _is _your last night. Best make it count."

Will looked over the guests. There were pirates, a few fish-people, soldiers who belonged to Beckett and to Norrington, civilians... but only, he realized a moment later, male ones. "I gather Elizabeth is not invited?"

A huge laugh went up. "Definitely not, mate," Jack explained over the noise, "This party is strictly for men… and eunuchs, of course. Everyone's invited, except the father of the bride, who probably oughtn't see what he's marrying his dear little girl to. Well? C'mon, son, drink up!"

* * *

TBC. The party's too long and I didn't want to break it in half. So next chapter we will see a pirate's bachelor party. I promise it'll be pretty bizarre.

Aren't we all proud of Will for feeling very strongly about something and _not _giving voice to it for a change! We'll see if he can keep up his good behavior.

Credits for this chapter: I don't know why, but the "SURPRISE" bit was definitely inspired by _Labyrinth, _when all of Sarah's friends come party with her at the end.

Credit for locating the bash on the _Dutchman _goes to Saishlyimna, who reminded me of Davy's mad organ skillz.


	38. Will gets a party

The party boat dropped anchor far outside hearing distance of the _Pearl, _and the festivities began in earnest.

At first, feeling a little out of his element, Will stood on the outskirts of the rowdiest groups and just watched it all happen. Soon someone came up to him and clapped him on the back. "Well, boy?"

It was Barbossa. Will was surprised to have been sought out; after their little scuffle in the hold they had been giving each other even more distance than usual. "These people are even wilder than Tortuga. I've never seen anything like it," he admitted.

"No? Who raised you?"

Will looked up, surprised. "My mother."

Barbossa nodded. "It shows."

Will didn't see anything objectionable in the pirate's smile, but as always he was wary and thought perhaps he was being made fun of. _Who raised YOU? _he wanted to ask. _A pack of wolves? That shows, too. _He caught himself in time, and didn't.

But it turns out he wasn't far off the mark. Staring into his drink, Barbossa volunteered: "Me, I was raised on a pirate ship. Raised by two dozen men with a very vested interest in how fast and strong they could grow me up." He looked up at Will. His smile turned a little dark. "I suppose that shows, too."

The one time he had managed to think before speaking, and it turned out it didn't even matter! Barbossa had made the comment himself. Will shrugged and laughed a little. "Sorry."

"Don't be - twas a fine way to spend a boyhood."

_Except it's made you totally unfit for civilized company and unable to win a lady if your life depended on it._ Will coughed. Perhaps thinking before speaking had some benefits after all. He thought up something better to say aloud. "Must have been exciting, at least."

"Aye." Barbossa poured him another drink and they toasted to the hope that Will's children would grow up with a full set of parents and would turn out the better for it. "You've done well for yourself, though, boy," Barbossa assured after a moment. "Perhaps a little soft for my taste, but well on the whole."

Will found this hilarious. Must be the rum. "Attila the Hun would probably be a little soft for your taste, Captain," he gasped out amidst his crazy laughter. "But thank you."

* * *

Barbossa knew he had timed the conversation perfectly - the boy was sober enough that he wouldn't forget it by morning, but hazy enough not to start wondering why the captain was being so nice to him.

Part of the reason, in fact, was simply that Barbossa was feeling buzzed and mellow and unusually magnanimous. The other part, though, the part that he didn't want to share, was that he knew he owed an apology for the way he had behaved down the hold. The line about Elizabeth running off to World's End (while it _was _an excellent line and probably true) was unnecessarily cruel, and childish in the extreme. Barbossa counted himself lucky that the boy hadn't thought to answer, _Go on and make your remarks about Elizabeth while you can; in a few days she's coming home with me and you'll never see her again_. That would have been equally true, and cruel, and childish - and Turner hadn't said it.

After he'd paid the boy a compliment and poured him a drink and made him laugh, he felt a little less beholden, and went off to share his good mood by pouring wine for Jack the monkey.

* * *

Half an hour later Jack (the pirate) clapped his hands for order and everyone, severely tipsy by now, put down their dice and cards and knives and whatever else they were playing with to listen. "I have a surprise for everyone," he slurred, falling all over himself as he tried to climb up on a box. There was a loud cheer. "It's a form of entertainment." An even louder cheer. Jack waited for it to die down. "It's a girl."

The roar was deafening. Even Davy Jones was drunk enough to cheer and throw slime through the air.

Will tried to get up from his seat. "Oh, no, Jack, really, I -_hic-_"

Half a dozen hands pulled him back down again. "Oh, come off it, boy," Barbossa growled into his ear. "If Elizabeth were here she'd be cheerin and drinkin right up with the best of 'em. That be the truth and you know it." He didn't realize he was holding his bottle at such an angle that he was pouring rum down the back of Will's shirt while he talked. Will, still soaking wet from his swim with Davy, didn't notice either.

The door to Davy's cabin burst open and out came the most bizarrely-clad woman Will had ever seen.

Her skirt was short - it came barely halfway down her calves - but voluminous. It was made of seaweed. On top of her white bodice, all she wore was layers upon layers of a cut-up fishnet. Her hair was loose, a thick mass of curls that dripped over her shoulders (but somehow, despite the much-needed cover they offered her throat and chest, they made her seem _more _rather than less indecent). She was made up more colorfully than the women of Tortuga, so much so that he could see her rouge even by the poor light of Davy's torches.

He stared into her face. "Charlotte?"

"Aye." She tipped him a huge stage wink and climbed up onto a table. "The best I could do with what I had at hand, gentlemen, what do you say?"

She strutted around the table, calling for more cheers and inspiring more toasts. "And now," she said after a moment, "In honor of the groom-to-be... let us have a dance!"

The pirates started a drunken, completely unintelligible chorus of some burlesque song, stomping and clapping to help keep the beat. Charlotte, clearly no novice, took up her skirts in her hand and started an equally bawdy dance right there on the table.

Will watched her whirl and kick and, though he did not attempt to lean forward and get underneath her for the best possible view the way most of the pirates did, he had to admit he liked what he saw. She would pause sometimes and slowly divest herself of one of the layers she wore on top. Considering they were all fishnet and thus completely see-through, it didn't do much in a practical sense. But it drove the men wild. They were whistling and singing and drinking and the torches had begun to dance around the edges of Will's vision.

Charlotte eventually kneeled down on the table in front of Will and put her hands on his shoulders. The pirates - and some of the uniformed men, too - started to chant "Kiss, kiss, kiss..."

So she leaned forward and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. "That's how bumblebees kiss," she explained, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

The filthy remarks that followed were so numerous and slurred that Will could hardly make out any of them. He heard, "We want to see how _snakes _kiss, show us that tongue!" but that was about it.

Charlotte did not at all seem offended. On the contrary, she winked and pouted and made eyes at everyone, seeming to have a more wonderful time the rowdier her audience became.

* * *

Eventually Charlotte decided that it was her bedtime. Davy escorted her to the dry room - or, more accurately, _she _escorted _him_, since he could no longer even lumber in a straight line. Then he came back and herded everyone into the organ chamber. "I was in here once," Will explained as Davy sat down to play. "I was robbing him."

He blinked. Why had he said that? Ah, yes, the rum. "Why's the floor tilted?"

Jack was suddenly next to him. He handed Will a fresh bottle and Will chugged down a quarter of it at a go. "That's why," Jack answered, before falling against a wall himself.

Although Davy was totally wasted his beard was not, and it played a wonderful pirate song with hardly any mistakes. The few mistakes that _did _happen were a result of the beard's owner letting his head fall forward to smash against the keyboard, making the room vibrate with the sounds of an ogre belching after a big meal.

Everyone was singing again, and Will discovered he was singing too - although it was a song he had never heard before. He shook Jack excitedly. "Lissn, Jack, I know all the words! I've never heard this song and, and I know allawords!" He started singing to demonstrate.

"Wonnerful!" Jack tried to give him a hug but ended up giving one to Norrington instead. "Perfect, Will, you're doing perfect!" He realized it was not Will he was draped over and withdrew. "Ah, sorry, mate."

"Jack Sparrow," Norrington slurred happily. He threw his arm over Jack's shoulders.

"'Avin a good time, are we?"

"Yyyeh." He smiled up into Jack's face from a distance of about two inches. "I liiiiiike you. I didn't used to, notatall."

A much more experienced drinker, Jack was able to manage a fairly clear mumble: "Mmm, yes I know. Rather got that idea from the whole, you know... _murder _incident."

Norrington just looked confused. "Sparrow, I like you," he repeated at last, firmly. "I am having alotta fun. Evrrrnn plays games wthh me."

"You can call me Jack, y'know. It's only fair. Me, when I kill somebody, I always call them by their first name afterwards. S'good manners."

Norrington wanted to lean closer to whisper a secret, but they were already so close that he ended up with a mouthful of Jack's hair and thus his speech was even more unintelligible than it had been. "Vrrynn calls LLizzbt by hers, nnn Idun likit."

Jack grinned, having no trouble understanding thanks to the helpful liquid translation device coursing through him. "You don't like it? Now why's that?"

Norrington pulled away and though his eyes weren't focused he managed a fairly offended look anyhow. "Because it's, ohh, snot rrrspectful. Ydonn see... anyone... even _you_... evennobody calls Brrrboza by his."

"His is Hector. Butsha can't use it," Jack warned quickly. "I did once. He just picked me up, jusslike that, mate, and threw me straight over the side. Y'wudden believe it." Jack was shaking his head as though, years later, it still amazed him. At that moment the pirate song ended, and in the sudden lull everyone heard Jack repeat, "Threw me overboard."

Another moment of silence. "Yes!" Will shouted from across the room. "Let's throw Jack overboard!"

Loud cheers greeted the suggestion. Jack cringed against the wall and pulled Norrington in front of him as a human shield. "Nonono, c'mon, boys, I can't swim," he invented. "No no no really it's cold, oh please really, really no..."

Many hands - not all of them human - began pulling him from the wall and carrying him up on deck. Jack grabbed at furniture and doorways and people along the way, clinging to whatever he could reach, but to no avail. "Cmon please, snot very nice, not nice at all mate, c'mon boys put me down, really put me down, we're avin such a nice time-" he babbled. Everyone was laughing, and no one paid him the slightest mind at all.

He picked Barbossa out of the crowd and tried to wriggle towards him. "C'mon mate, I wouldn't do this to _you_."

"More fool you, then," Barbossa chuckled. He waved goodbye as Jack was carried past. "Off you go."

Jack felt himself lifted in the air. "Whoa." The world was already spinning but now it was spinning much faster, and he squinted to see anything besides blurs of lights and-

A blinding, jarring crash.

Jack gasped and was suddenly drowning. Aha - he'd hit the water. Better not do any more gasping - he was overboard.

Feeling much soberer now, Jack fought to the surface and coughed up the water he'd taken in. He looked up in the direction of the catcalls and laughter. "Not! Funny!" he shouted, knowing perfectly well that it _would _be funny, if it were only someone else instead of him.

He just hoped there were no sharks.

* * *

Like Norrington, Will was having a wonderful time. He too was completely fascinated with the noise and disorder and the ability to behave with a perfect lack of inhibition. He thought it was great fun to throw Jack overboard, and nearly fell over the railing himself because he was leaning so far down to shout, "Howsa water down there?"

But after a few moments of watching the bobbing blur that was Jack's white shirt, Will's drunk brain finally cranked out the thought: _We can't leave him there forever._ He sighed and started to fumble with the laces of his boots.

He had taken off everything except his pants before somebody noticed. "Hey, Marryin' Man, what're you doing?"

Will meant to say, _I'm going to go fish Jack out, _but he was so drunk he just told them, "Ingwing fishing." They laughed. He frowned and added, "for Jack," but they still didn't seem to get it. It didn't occur to him that if he couldn't see and couldn't speak, he probably couldn't swim right now either. He lurched towards the railing but fell to his knees halfway there. _Fine. Not a problem - I'll crawl._

But someone stopped him from crawling, too. "Easy, Will," a voice growled in his ear. "'Sbad luck for the groom to risk his life on the night before the wedding. Stay here - I'll go."

Will recognized the voice after a moment's thought. "Gibbs?"

"Aye. Stay here, boy, I'll take care of it. You're too drunk to swim."

Will didn't open his eyes because he thought that keeping them closed was the best way to stop the ship from heaving. "Y-you're drunk too."

Gibbs laughed. "No more'n usual." Sure enough, he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever knotting a rope and tying himself on for good measure and letting himself down the side of the _Pearl_.

* * *

Barbossa was watching this exchange and was feeling a little growly about it. Unplanned swim or not, he thought, tonight Jack was a lucky man. The guest of honor was fighting for the privilege of descending into the dark, cold ocean to pull him out. Gibbs was prepared to go if Will couldn't, and several other pirates were also edging towards the railing in case they were needed.

And Barbossa knew that if all else failed, _he _would probably end up going over himself. Jack had more people watching his back than he knew what to do with.

As always, drinking had made the captain introspective. _Wonder who'd go over for me, _he thought, after deliberately telling himself not to think it. Other than possibly Jack? Hmm. _Ah, but nobody'd dare throw me over in the first place - that's got to count for something._

Still, some perverse urge had him scanning the crowd to see if there was someone he'd forgotten. He felt a small prick of disappointment - there wasn't. But there _was _a former Commodore watching the rescue happen with a similar thoughtful frown, and they happened to meet eyes and Barbossa snarled at him from across the deck. _I will NOT have somethin in common with that peacock, _he told himself.

Norrington seemed to share the sentiment - he turned on his heel and marched off to stand among Davy's fishpeople, the one place where he would be sure not to cross paths with the pirate again.

* * *

A few minutes later Gibbs came back into view, climbing the rope with a shivering Jack Sparrow draped over his shoulders.

"Curse ya for the ten poundsa grog y'just packed on," they heard him complain.

"Think I can help you with that," Jack slurred. He turned a little to the side and threw up a mess of rum and seawater. "Better?"

"Aye, much." In fact it didn't help at all, but fortunately the people on deck finally took it into their heads to help pull them aboard.

Jack stood up and shook himself off like a doggie, spraying water all over the rest of the party. "Wh-where's Turner!" he demanded, one hand on his hip and the other making threatening gestures in various directions. He finally spotted Will, who was wearing only his pants and Davy Jones's huge hat. "Aha!" Jack lurched over and threw his arm over Will's shoulders. "I'm going to g-g-get you for that, mate," he promised, teeth chattering.

But the wet hug set off a huge fit of shivers in Will, which disturbed his already-fragile equilibrium. He yarked all over everything within a three-foot radius. Including Jack.

Jack looked around for sympathy, but instead someone handed him rum. He supposed it would do. He bowed to acknowledge all the laughter aimed his way, then tottered off to join the leapfrog game that Norrington had started with a few of Davy's fishpeople.

* * *

At daybreak they sailed up and lay a plank over from the _Dutchman _to the _Pearl _and everyone stumbled on home. Will wore only his pants and a capelike garment made out of a fishnet.

Jack wore his boots and belt and hat and in fact most of his accessories... the only things he was lacking were pants and a shirt.

Norrington (sans wig - the anemone growing on one of Davy's crew had eaten it) escorted Charlotte, who was wrapped up in his coat for decency's sake.

Everyone else was more or less completely dressed. Nobody really knew for certain what had happened in the wee hours of the morning, which was as it should be. They all lurched on down the hold, cursing the sunlight, and collapsed to sleep it off.

Everyone was very glad it was to be an afternoon wedding.

* * *

TBC. Geez, these announcements get longer and longer:

**Pub crawl: **Yep, Jack would approve... although with him, by the end of the night you'd probably be literally crawling. I never crawled, I think I mostly maintained a slow and dignified stagger.

**Review**! Really, do, I mean it! We're almost down to the very end. All that's left is the wedding day... and I think it'll be a hell of a wedding.

**Preview**: There'll be kissing - some but not all of it is for Will. Elizabeth and Barbossa will have words one more time. Governor Swann will overhear some things he shouldn't and may narrowly escape a heart attack as a result. Sounds good? C'mon, you know you want to see Will kiss the bride, the poor kid has waited so long! Leave me some love.

**Deleted Scenes: **On the day I post the last chapter I'm also going to post a "deleted scenes" reel, since there are some things I wrote that just didn't fit in but I still love them. Convincing Barbossa to sit still for Doctor Davy is one of them. Will getting his butt kicked for insubordination is another. That sort of thing.


	39. Jack performs a marriage

There was still an hour to go, and everything was at hand except the bride. She was still shut up in the cabin, alone, getting ready.

But it had been a long time, and the captains were beginning to clamor for their quarters back, so Will went with them to see what was going on.

"Elizabeth? Are you ready yet?"

The door opened a few inches and Elizabeth stuck her head out. Her hair was beautiful but she looked furious. "No! I am not ready! I haven't even _begun _to put my dress on yet. I can't – how do you expect me to lace my own corset, hmm?"

Will looked surprised. "Oh. Well…" He took a step towards the door, but she slammed it.

"No! It's bad luck for you to see me before the ceremony, remember?"

Jack headed for the cabin. "Well, I guess that leaves me," he proposed innocently.

"Oh, no, you don't." Will grabbed him by the back of his shirt and nodded to Barbossa. "You go."

Barbossa shrugged. "Hard luck, Jack." He rapped on the cabin door and called, "Elizabeth? Coming in."

Two seconds after the door closed behind him, Will realized that he would much prefer Elizabeth's corset to be laced by a lady, and that there were in fact several ladies aboard (not counting Charlotte - Will wasn't sure she qualified as a lady anymore). But if he said something now it would make him seem old-fashioned and jealous, so he just made a smooth exit and went off to do some primping of his own.

He thought she was probably mostly dressed already, and anyway, what could possibly happen?

* * *

But Elizabeth was still in her pirate rags, sulking. "Well. You all seem to have had quite a nice night," she pouted 

"Aye." Barbossa didn't bother trying to keep a straight face. "We all played the fool but I admit it were great fun. I gather your night was not so excitin?"

He was purring at her with that mock sympathy she hated so much. Elizabeth knew it, knew he was goading her on purpose, and yet she couldn't help but be goaded. "You know perfectly well I-" she broke off and let her breath out slowly. Fuming was no good, she told herself. Revenge would be better.

_If he wants to rub my nose in what I can't have, _she thought, _two can play at that game._ Cool as a cucumber, she started to undress right there in front of him.

She unbuckled her swordbelt and let it clatter to the ground. She untucked her shirt and opened the buttons swiftly and shrugged out of it.

He saw at once what she was about and hissed at her to stop. She tossed her hair behind her nearly-naked shoulders and said loftily, "Well, I need to change. If you don't like it, you can go over there in the corner and close your eyes." Ordering the captain around was a rare pleasure that would improve her tetchiness immensely. "Go on."

He narrowed his eyes at her in warning but she only smiled, confident that she could handle a battle of wills with anyone.

"No, I think I quite like it where I am," he said smoothly. "But you be welcome to change if it pleases you."

Elizabeth hesitated, wondering if she was getting in a little over her head. Had she actually expected to be allowed to torment Captain Barbossa without paying dearly for the privilege? Still, if he would call her bluff, then she would damn well call his.

She loosened the laces of her undershirt. He swallowed hard but didn't move.

_He's going to give up any minute now, _she assured herself as she kicked off her shoes. _He can't bear looking at me and knowing I'm about to marry myself straight out of his reach. He can't. _She stared hard into his eyes as she stripped, expecting that at any moment he would heave a sigh and turn red and growl _For God's sake, miss, _and give her some privacy.

When she began to unbutton her pants (one-handed; the other hand was busy holding her wadded-up shirt to cover her chest) she thought she had him - he flushed and shifted his eyes to a distant point over her shoulder. But then she snickered, and his pride kicked in. He put his hands on his hips and quirked his eyebrows at her defiantly and wasn't going anywhere.

Elizabeth persevered until she was down almost to the bare minimum amount of clothing to distinguish her from Adam and Eve, but then, as he still had every appearance of holding his ground, she folded. "All right, all right, _fine." _She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious even though he very politely was keeping his eyes on her face. "Would you _please _turn your back."

"Why, of course, miss," he drawled, all charm now. He faced away and crossed the room to give her space while she washed up at the bucket in the corner and started the momentous task of dressing for her wedding. "You know you can't lie to me, Elizabeth - I taught you the game."

"Hmph." To cut short any more gloating she changed the subject. "So... tell me, how did last night go?"

"Very well, from the bits I remember."

"Everyone looks awful."

"Aye."

"But not you." She watched for his reaction but since all she could see was his back it was hard to tell. "You look much better," she pressed. "Why?"

He doubted she had brought it up for no reason - he _had _taught her the game, after all. "Before the drinking got heavy, I let Davy take a look at me shoulder," he admitted coolly. ("Letting" Davy have a look had been a terrifying ordeal for him that had required intense persuasion by Jack and his pistol, but Barbossa glossed right over that part.) "I let him look, and he did somethin in the wound and it felt a little better straight off. Fever's down, too."

"You had a fever?" she asked sharply. "Why didn't you say something?" He shrugged. "You're impossible, Captain, you know that. I hope you told Jack, at least, so he can take care of you?"

Barbossa was quick to deny it. "I never tell Jack nothin. What he sees, he sees."

She rolled her eyes, which was not very effective since he wasn't looking at her. "Oh, yes, that's a brilliant policy," she muttered under her breath, not quite daring to lecture him aloud. "Bloody pirates. Bloody _men_. Well, anyway, that's wonderful about Davy at least, I thought he might do that. I'll have to tell him thank you if he comes this afternoon. All right, you can turn around now - I'm mostly dressed."

_Mostly _was not the word he would have chosen, but he was hardly about to complain. "Tell me when it's time for the corset."

"Almost ready, hold on." She searched for something to fill the silence. "My night was all right. Sad but all right. I spent it with my father - you know, it's the last time I'll see him like that."

"Like how?"

"Like a daughter." She swallowed hard and it helped. "You know, I think it will be difficult to get used to. He brought me up all by himself - I mean of course there were nurses and nannies and all, you know - but it was always just he and I. But from now on I won't be _his daughter_, I'll be somebody's _wife_."

Barbossa dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "You'll always be his daughter, no matter how old you get or how many filthy brats you turn out."

"Very poetic," Elizabeth said dryly. "And how would you know, may I ask?" She half-expected him to crack and mention a long-lost family of his own.

Instead he shrugged and explained, "Because that's simply the way it works. To me you'll always be the young missie who knows she's in far over her head and still can't be made to back down." He chuckled softly. "No matter how big a household ye become mistress of, or how wide a dress ye put on."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Now that really _was _poetic," she said after a moment. "Now you're going to make me cry."

"Then what say we start with the corset - then you'll have a real excuse to cry. Aye?"

She bit her lip. "Aye."

* * *

Governor Swann walked past the cabin at exactly the wrong moment. "This dress is impossible," said the gravelly voice of Captain Barbossa. "I should just rip it right off you." 

"Behave," snapped Elizabeth's voice back. "_Ow _! Mind the brand, don't touch there." There was the sound of someone getting a weak little slap on the hand. As if that would stop a deranged pirate!

Swann hovered outside, wondering if he should burst in.

He was too slow – all at once he heard the rustle of Elizabeth's dress and, "Brace yourself, miss." A grunt from the pirate, a squeal from Elizabeth, and Swann fumbled for the pistol at his side while his other hand went to the doorknob and-

The pirate's voice stopped him: "Elizabeth? Are you all right?"

"Yes it's fine" she gasped, "Just _God _you have to go slower and- _mmph_- first give me time to- _oh_- to get used to it. I'm fine."

The governor paused. That didn't _sound _like she was being taken advantage of, but...

"It's snug already and I haven't even started yet." The pirate sounded concerned even to Swann's biased ears. "Are you sure this is comfortable for you? I could stop..."

"N-no," came Elizabeth's breathless answer. "Of course it's not_, ooh, _comfortable, but I'm about to be married and I _will _be a proper bride."

Swann frowned. Perhaps he had stumbled upon some bizarre enactment of a pirate captain's droit du seigneur? Did pirates still practice that? Did anyone? At any rate, he thought, whatever was going on seemed to be consensual and therefore he could just turn and-

But Elizabeth gasped in pain again. The verbal exchange that followed ("Too much?" "No, for heaven's sake stop _stopping_, it's fine, keep going,"), while it did tell him that Elizabeth was not being forced, did _not _convince him that she was not making a mistake. She was in there… ahem… with a partner who was completely unsuitable for her and, frankly, disgusting. Besides, he was hurting her. Swann believed in respecting his daughter's autonomy as much as possible, but he was convinced that this was still one of those times where Papa knew best. He steeled himself to make a dangerous pirate (two dangerous pirates?) very angry, and prepared to interrupt. He reached for the doorknob again.

This time, what stayed his hand was the sudden idea of what he was actually about to walk in on. His daughter…? That was not really something he ought to see. Not at all. Perhaps he ought to just knock...

He became more and more unwilling to open the door as the conversation continued: "I'm powerful glad not to be a lady. I wouldn't let anyone do this to _me_," the captain said after she let out a particularly pained squeal.

"Well," Elizabeth answered, her speech punctuated by her partner's grunts and her answering gasps. "It's only -_mmn_- this miserable due to inexperience and -_ah- _you're being -_oh_- unbearably rough." Then she hissed in exasperation. "All right, don't overdo it, you don't have to be _that _gentle, I'm not going to break. _Oh, _yes, like that, that's fine. A little more."

The governor's ears burned. Oh, it was time to leave. If his daughter needed help she was just going to have to find it elsewhere. He walked away, but not fast enough to miss the pirate's next comment: "Almost done, miss. It's tight." Shudder! He heard Elizabeth's answer: "You're telling _me_." Double shudder!

He skedaddled just in time to miss Elizabeth complaining, "Whoever invented corsets must -_oh- _hate women."

* * *

Everyone was assembled and ready to go. The guests were all uneasy because of the ghostly organ music whose source they could not determine (It was, of course, the _Flying Dutchman_, somewhere below them). Governor Swann stood by Elizabeth's side, simultaneously hating the ridiculousness of his daughter's wedding and accepting it because for some unfathomable reason it all seemed to make her very happy. 

Captain Barbossa stood beside Will, stealing speculative glances at him from time to time and trying to determine whether or not it was time to stop calling him "boy." Will Turner, husband and pirate and... man? On the one hand, Will had made considerable progress. He had new confidence, a bit of a head on his shoulders, and a respectable amount of blood in his history (including his father's, a thought that still had the power to make Barbossa uncomfortable). Perhaps "boy" wasn't fair. On the other hand there was that conversation they had had this morning, where Will had obliquely confessed to being unprepared for the wedding night despite all of Elizabeth's attempts to seduce him early, and Barbossa had laughed for near half a minute before assuring him that he would figure it all out. Furiously jealous, the captain had only just managed not to add, _don't worry, Elizabeth's an excellent student and I taught her everything you'll need to know._

Jack rapped on the altar (a half-full barrel of grog and a stolen tablecloth) and leaned over it. "Dearly beloved... pirates, family, friends... captives... we are gathered here today to celebrate a marriage that has been a long time in the making. Some of us," he added a little more softly, locking his eyes on Elizabeth and letting his voice go all husky, "Are _extremely ready _for this marriage to take place."

Barbossa growled low in his throat and Jack got a little more serious. "Right! Enough sermonizing. Time for the vows then, eh?" Jack took a deep breath. "But before we get started, I do have one small request." He leaned closer to the couple as though sharing a secret. "I think on this day of all days, it would be permissible for me to give the bride a kiss, don't you?"

Will looked suspicious. Elizabeth pointed to her forehead. "Certainly, Jack."

"Can't reach, love." Before she could stop him, he skittered around the altar, got his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. A big kiss. A big, _long _kiss.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open and she looked to Will. He was shaking his head at her over Jack's shoulder, looking simultaneously shocked and amused, and finally waved his hand at her as if to tell her just to get it over with.

"Scandalous," Governor Swann muttered.

"Pirates," Norrington reminded him quietly from off to the side. "I warned you something like this would probably happen."

Not everyone was taking it so calmly. Will heard the _zhing _of a knife being drawn beside him. Although it gave him the warm fuzzies to be on the receiving end of such protectiveness, he really didn't think that threats were necessary. He reached out without looking and put a hand on Barbossa's arm. "It's all right, Captain, I think I brought this on myself," he murmured. "I told her that on our wedding day she could have anything she wanted..."

Barbossa settled down and put his blade away with a snort of disbelief.

"Yes, I know, I should have thought about it first." Will sighed. "But how would I have foreseen _this_? And if there's an answer to that question I don't want to know," he added quickly.

Elizabeth was too busy to hear any of it. She had kissed an awful lot of people since that horrible day with the Kraken, but her mouth remembered Jack's and she would know him anywhere. He seemed to remember her, too – they slid comfortably into a rhythm almost immediately. He _did _taste fabulous. Salty, again, though.

Elizabeth realized after a moment that it was because she was crying. Understandable. After all, she was kissing Jack, _Jack Sparrow,_ the pirate she had worshipped since she was old enough to read, the man who had introduced himself to her by saving her life and then not said a single angry word when she repaid him with betrayal and murder.

Jack. His strong arms were around her now, his messy hair in her face and his sword – she hoped – poking into her hip. She heard Will mutter "Bloody pirate! I don't believe this!" and Jack laughed into her mouth. She took the opportunity to gasp in some air before diving back into the kiss, letting her hands move over him, touching his face, his neck, his shoulders, memorizing every detail because she knew that this was it. _Jack. _His lips were as rough as she'd come to expect from a pirate but his tongue was even softer - and more insistent - than she remembered.

His arms tightened around her and forced her to take a step back. She moved as she was directed, tilting her head as Jack deepened the kiss. For a moment she thought she might faint. _Goodbye, Jack, you have no idea how I'll miss you._

* * *

Will didn't think he was being jilted at the altar; it _looked _like a goodbye kiss and he thought perhaps he should just go politely blind for a moment the way all the guests were doing. Still, he was annoyed. 

His bride's mouth was full of a pirate's tongue instead of his, and worse, said pirate seemed to be a much better kisser than he would ever be. Will watched helplessly as Jack backed her up all the way to the railing. She put her arms around his neck and leaned out over the sea, clearly ready to accept anything Jack cared to give her…

But then one of Jack's hands left Elizabeth's waist and hovered in the air. Without disturbing the kiss in the slightest, he snapped his fingers and beckoned for Will to approach.

Will came up close. Elizabeth's eyes were still closed and her lips still busy, but Will wasn't watching because he had more pressing matters to attend to. Jack was using his free hand to take something from his belt and dump it into Will's hands. Will frowned. A pair of shackles?

Jack held up one finger and then Will understood. As quietly as he could, Will snapped one end on to his own wrist and then handed the open cuff back to Jack. Even through the noises of a wet and sloppy kiss, Will could hear the rumble of the pirate's laughter. Quick as a wink Jack locked the cuff onto Elizabeth, kissed her once more on the lips and backed away.

"Turnabout's fair play, love," he told her apologetically as she stared openmouthed at her shackled hand. Had she not been wearing a dress she might have kicked him. Here she was, kissing him as if it _meant _something, feeling an honest-to-God emotional tug with Jack's name on it, and he was only playing a trick on her! Or was he? She tried to read him, but he turned his attention to Will before she could figure anything out.

He told Will, "That should help you keep her out of trouble, eh?" Will couldn't help but notice that he was completely out of breath and his eyes were all pupil.

"All right," Will said firmly, "Now, that will be _enough_ of that – when we're married, Elizabeth, there will be no more kissing of Jack Sparrow, none at all, ever, is that clear?"

Turnabout might be fair and so might Will's pronouncement, but she didn't have to like either. She glared at them both in turn and then rattled the handcuffs. "Inescapably," she sulked. But then when Jack laughed she had to laugh too. He cupped her face with both dirty hands.

"It's really a shame to lose you, love," he said. He stood on tiptoe to kiss her on the forehead, then stepped away to proceed with the marriage ceremony.

* * *

"Do you, William Turner, son of Bootstrap Bill Turner…" Jack's eyes narrowed just a hair. "Do you have the courage and fortitude to stay true and follow your heart in the face of danger, boredom, and whatever else may come to you in all the years ahead? And do you choose this woman, Elizabeth Swann, as the one to whom you pledge yourself body and soul – forever – until death do you part?" 

Will tightened his grip on Elizabeth's hands, which made the chains rattle. "I do."

Jack turned to the bride and let his voice soften just a little. "And do you, love, Elizabeth Swann, daughter of a man in a very large and frightening wig, do you also have the courage and fortitude to stay true, to both follow _and tame _your heart, in the face of danger, boredom or anything else the future may hold for you?" He paused. "And do you choose…are you _sure _this time… do you choose _this _man, _this _William Turner the younger, as the one to whom you pledge yourself…body…" his eyes shot down just for a moment "…and soul, forever, until death do you part – again?"

Gentle laughter. "I do, Jack. And I am sure."

"Really?" he pressed, making a face. "You're sure you don't need some more time to thi-"

"Jack!"

Jack drew himself up. "Very well then. By the power vested in me by…well, technically by Davy, but that doesn't sound so fancy, does it?..." he shook his head and tried again. "By the power vested in me by the great blue sea itself, I now pronounce you man and wife." He gestured grandly and then prompted, "You may kiss the bride. _Everyone else has,"_ he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Barbossa heard him and was not amused. "This be a wedding, cretin," he hissed back.

"S'all right, perhaps if Will gets offended we can have ourselves a swordfight right here in the middle of it all, wouldn't that be wonderful?"

But Will didn't appear to have heard any of it – he had taken Jack's advice and was finally kissing the bride.

* * *

They stopped the _Pearl _far enough outside the harbor that they wouldn't run the risk of being spotted and chased. They lowered all the boats and packed them with everyone who was to be returned to Port Royal. As a wedding present to the young couple the pirates had decided not to loot the city again or even to ask ransom for all the captives they had acquired. 

Will and Elizabeth were to climb down last. They were only a few steps from the railing when Will was stopped by a firm grip on his arm. "Now, mind you take care of her," Barbossa growled at him quietly, "Or I'll be comin after ye."

Will thought: _This madman really likes her. _"Thanks for your concern, but no worries on that score," he assured. He waited til Barbossa was not looking, then grabbed Jack and took him aside. "Jack, keep a leash on him, would you?"

Jack thought: _Poor boy's jealous_. "Don't worry about it, son, I've got everything under control." Jack waited til Will was not looking, then hurried over to Elizabeth and whispered to her, "Be good to him, love, he's earned it."

Elizabeth thought: _Jack can be so sweet sometimes_! "Believe me, Jack, I intend to." She waited til Jack was not looking, then beckoned for Barbossa to come close and told him, "Take care of Jack, will you? I worry about him."

"I think we _all _worry about Jack, miss. But don't you worry – I'll handle it."

"Thank you. Captain..."

"Now get in that boat before I think better of lettin you go." He backed up into the crowd of well-wishing pirates and waved her a bland goodbye.

Will had been so patient with her that she would not try him more - she got in the boat and they shoved off and she didn't look back even once.

* * *

Jack took a huge swig and passed the bottle. "I hate goodbyes." 

"Mmm."

"Speaking of which..." Jack took the bottle back for another drink. "You never finished what you where saying the other day. We got as far as: We're in a lot of trouble, you and I." He passed the bottle.

"So we are." There was silence for awhile. "Perhaps the problem went away on its own. Whatever did happen to Beckett's ship? I was asleep."

Jack shook his head. "It'll still be there. We dropped the anchor, left bodies all over the place and painted _PLAGUE - PLEASE HELP - NEED DOCTORS_ all over the hull."

Barbossa took a break from the difficult conversation to chuckle. "How'd ye spell _plague_?"

Jack shrugged. (After much debate, Jack's insistence that there was a U had led them to write PLUAYGE instead of PLAYGE). "Wrong, probably. In any case..."

Things were bad when even Jack Sparrow was more willing to tackle a problem head-on than he was. Barbossa shrugged. "Then I suppose what we _should_ do is go back there, divide up the crew in half, and off we go."

"We could try to sort of... cooperate..."

"And have twice the risk and half the treasure? Or have the crews get competitive? Or have you get mutinied on again and force me to fire on the _Pearl_? I don't think so." Barbossa put a hand on his sword to stop himself from fidgeting. "The way I see it we have two choices. Either we go pick up Beckett's ship, and we divide the crew in half, and we sail off in opposite directions now and swear never to meet again. As far as I'm concerned you're dead, and vice versa. Or..."

"Or, we...don't?" Jack suggested slowly. It was always hard to say what Barbossa was thinking, so he slid his hand towards his pistol, just in case.

"The other choice," Barbossa continued, "Is for you to stay _here_, actually _on_ my ship, permanently, so that I can keep an eye on you at all times." He looked over sideways and shrugged. "I'm gettin too old to make trips to World's End for ye just because you can't take care of yourself."

Jack looked over at him in amazement, then laughed. "I always knew you'd go soft, mate."

Barbossa didn't bother to deny it. "Aye, dyin'll do that to you."

"I know," Jack reminded him.

"Well? What do you say?"

"I say," Jack answered after a moment, "that the _Pearl _is _our _ship, not _yours_, and that otherwise it sounds like a very fine idea. We'll leave Beckett's boat to rot where it is, and the two of us'll go on together as equals. That's what I say. Do we have an accord?"

"Aye, Jack, we have an accord." As they shook on it, Barbossa warned, "But this one better not end with your puttin a bullet through me."

Jack threw an arm around him. "Oh, don't worry about that, mate," he said cheerfully. "I only had one shot, and I used it already."

Barbossa knocked his arm off and considered the benefits that a cuff to the face might bring. He growled something incomprehensible under his breath that contained several _arrr_'s.

But he knew no amount of snarling would be enough to mask his good mood. Back aboard the _Pearl _in the sun, Jack by his side and Jack on his shoulder, all the vexing females out of his hair... the world was as it should be. Yarrr.

* * *

The End. 

Yes, I know, I know, the ending was supersyrupy sweet, but it had to be that way for the same reason Will and Elizabeth had to get married at the end: it's a bloody Disney movie, people, and there's always a happy ending and the good prince _always _gets the girl! To all JxE or BxE or NxE shippers out there... sorry!

Now, please, everybody, if you haven't reviewed yet, do it now! There has to be something to say about a 100,000-word leviathan (haha kraken) of a fanfic!

A giant thankyou to everyone who _did _take the time to send me ideas and encouragement. Doublegiant thankyous to the dedicated readers like Asteria, Saishlyimna, JeanieBeanie33, xthexstarlettex, CaptainTish, Captain Uschi and Coldharbour who had plenty to say about each and every chapter. You guys have been especially great and I hope you've enjoyed the story.

Thanks for reading!


	40. Deleted scenes

Deleted Scenes reel: For some reason or another, these bits did not make it into the story. But I still like them!

**

* * *

**

**Bootstrap Bill in Trouble Again... or, Where Will Gets It From**

This takes place **before **my story, during Barbossa's trip home from World's End after Jack shoots him in CotBP. I guess by timeline it's between CotBP and DMC.

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Barbossa prowled the misty deck of the _Dutchman _without his coat or hat or anything else that might draw attention to himself. In fact, considering he was soaked to the bone and so chilled his lips were blue, he blended in better with Davy's crew than he would have liked.

He was prowling because even though it was only his fifth night aboard, he was already feeling trapped and suffocated in his room. The deck was quiet except for a few creatures keeping watch, and one sailor on the ground scrubbing steadily at the deck. Surprise, surprise, it was Bootstrap Bill. Barbossa went over to him.

"Care to lend a hand?" chuckled Bill when he saw who his visitor was.

Barbossa looked down and watched the slow progress for a little while. Bill might have been joking but it was still an interesting thought. "Have ye any idea how many years it's been since I swabbed a deck?"

Bill shrugged. "Days, years, they don't mean much around here. Time just... happens." He looked up, the ghost of a spark in his eyes. "I scrubbed decks with you once upon a time."

"So you did." Barbossa knelt carefully down next to him and reached for a rag. "For old times' sake," he said.

They worked in silence for a little while. Barbossa found the rhythm of it soothing and, had it not been hell on his knees and back, might almost have decided to come help tomorrow night, too.

Bootstrap Bill had been out here slaving away instead of resting for four nights now. That, and the fact that his back had been shredded so badly he still couldn't wear a shirt after half a week, suggested that he had said or done something to provoke Davy Jones very intensely.

Barbossa had a feeling he knew what it was. "I suppose this be the cannon all over again."

Bootstrap laughed helplessly, a low, wheezing sound that brought him dangerously close to coughing. "Yes," he said. "I just can't seem to keep this mouth shut when it matters, can I?"

"Shut it now; bosun's watching," Barbossa breathed quickly.

When the bosun had gone away again Bill said, "Jones is going to bargain with you and let you go."

"You're a fool," Barbossa growled wearily, reaching over him to get at the bucket. He tried not to notice that some of the lash marks still oozed blood.

"I owed it to you," Bill reminded him. "I condemned you all to a fate that... well..."

"I wouldn't wish it on anyone," Barbossa agreed, then paused in his scrubbing to think about it. "Well. Perhaps there are one or two..."

Bill looked over at him and they both laughed quietly.

**

* * *

Davy Plays Doctor**

The day of the bachelor party, hanging about the _Dutchman _waiting for the guest of honor to arrive, Davy notices that Barbossa is pale and hot and nearly delirious.

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"What happened to you?"

Before Barbossa could answer, Jack jumped in. "Actually Davy, it's a very good thing you asked mate, because, you see, Barbossa here could use a little bit of help, and word is you're able to just lay hands on people and sort of clean them right up, eh? Rather like you know who." He made a prayerful gesture.

"Charming, Sparrow," Davy said flatly. "It's a shame it's not you - I'd take great pleasure in refusing and seeing you rot. Well, let me see."

Barbossa shook his head. "Thank ye, but I think I'll just wait until-"

"You don't have that long." Jack's voice was firm and his eyes hard. "Show it to Davy. You don't have to let him touch it," he overrode his friend's protest, "Just let him see."

Barbossa's insistence that he would be fine for a little longer was seriously undermined by the difficulty he had in getting his coat off and shirt open. "There. Lovely, is it not?"

Jack leaned away from the awful fishy smell and kept his eyes on Davy. "Tell him the truth."

Davy _plurrp_ed. "The truth is you're not dying yet. But at the rate you're going I'll be extending you an invitation within three or four days."

"Well you can take that invitation, and stow it up-"

"Did you even hear him?" demanded Jack.

Barbossa froze. "Three or four _days_?" he whispered.

Jones's nose wrinkled. "Five at the outside - I'll give you that you're tough. But if we wait any longer than that..." he shrugged. "I can't take an oath from a dead man, now, can I."

"See?" Jack demanded. "What've you got to lose?" No answer. Jack looked over at Davy and suggested, "How about if I hold him down?

"Try that and I'll shoot you dead." Barbossa already had his hand on his pistol. He was trying to think things through. Obviously Jack was not trying to trick him into a lifetime on the _Dutchman _(was he?), but who knew what happens when Davy starts sticking those squirmy little arms up inside your body and poking around in there? Were you all right after? Did your hair start to turn to seaweed? Could you still die on schedule?

"All right, mate, easy." Jack held up his hands to illustrate that holding people down was no longer on the menu. He took a slow step forward, holding eye contact as he approached, the way he would with a dangerous wild animal. "Come on. It's me - Jack. I only want to help. Please trust me."

Barbossa felt prickly and dizzy, and he suddenly realized that he was probably not quite right in the head. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm bein silly, aren't I?"

Jack broke into a grin, relieved beyond measure. "Entirely." He looked back at Davy. "All yours, Doctor."

**

* * *

Will Finally Accepts the Consequences of his Actions.**

I debated having Will suffer for trying to kill Davy - why should Elizabeth always be in trouble for him? So this is how I think it might have gone down...

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"Please, don't-"

Barbossa followed his gaze to Elizabeth. "Oh, I think we're past that," he assured with with a smile that boded no good at all. "This one you get to take all by yourself."

"Thank you," Will breathed, relieved.

Barbossa's eyes flashed. "I don't think you'll be thankin me when it's over." He gestured for men to come and collect the prisoner, then cocked his head thoughtfully while he dreamed up something appropriate. "Tie him to the bowsprit, and drop him off the bow," he ordered at last.

Elizabeth didn't seem to understand, so as they carted Will away Barbossa explained it to her. "I've always liked keelhaulin, except we haven't scraped the hull in so long that I can't even imagine the barnacles we've got down there. It would literally shred Will alive. He'd lose chunks of flesh bigger than your hand and he'd probably bleed to death. So this way we can give him the same pleasant experience of nearly drownin, without puttin his life to significant risk."

"Significant," Elizabeth echoed unhappily. "Captain, this really isn't funny." She watched them lower Will off the bow by a sturdy rope around his ankles. She rushed over and peered over the side. "Will? Are you all right?"

He was actually clinging to the figurehead, having a rough time of it because his feet were tied together. "_Will!_"

He looked up and coughed the spray out of his mouth. "Elizabeth?" But then his grip slipped and he fell. For a moment he hung by the rope around his ankles, bouncing wildly, upside down just above the surface of the water. He was dunked twice before he managed to twist around and raise his body enough to grab onto the rope with his hands. "I'm fine," he shouted once he was right side up again. After long moments of hanging on, when he knew his strength was about to give out, he called up to Elizabeth, "Darling I think I'd rather you didn't watch this!"

He didn't know if she answered or even if she heard him, because a moment later he was dangling by his feet again, arms flailing, crashing hard into the hull of the ship and choking on seawater.

Barbossa came to check on him twice. The first time, Will was latched on to the wooden woman's legs, hanging on by his arms and knees because his arms were too exhausted to do it alone. He was throwing up water and trying vainly to get his wet hair de-plastered from his face. He heard the laugh from above and tried to look up. "Captain is that you?" His eyes burned with too much salt to see. "How long do I have to stay d-" the ship bucked and dislodged him, dropping him so suddenly that his whole body jerked with the shock of it. "_Aough_!" But several swells broke over him and when there was finally a break, he had to cough up everything he had inhaled. It took a while before he could drag himself back up the rope out of reach of the sea, and by that time, the captain had gone.

The second time Barbossa came back, Will had given up trying to climb. He was dangling at the end of the rope, wiping at his face every now and again, only really becoming active when the ship dipped and his head was submerged. Then he would thrash wildly and pull himself up enough to break the water.

It was obviously getting more and more difficult for him – he was so exhausted that there eventually came a time when he couldn't curl up enough to pull free of the ocean. When the wave receded on its own, Will gasped and retched, arms hanging uselessly over his head, no longer even struggling. He had gone for all intents and purposes completely limp. Water dripped down from his soaked clothes over his face, into his nose, and every few breaths he would choke on it a little and have to cough it up.

Barbossa called for men to come pull him up. The boy could probably take another ten or twenty minutes, but it was better to be safe than sorry when dealing with such an important member of the crew.

He considered calling Elizabeth to come coo over the boy, then decided the boy didn't deserve it - he deserved a punishing combination of mocking laughter and pity from someone he didn't like. Barbossa himself caught Will as he was hauled onto the deck, then shooed everyone else away and eased the half-drowned boy to the floor.

Will was gagging, and clinging to him, and couldn't see the nasty smile because his eyes were swollen shut after so long in the ocean and spray.

"All right, all right. Breathe. Here-" Barbossa splashed fresh water over his eyes and then poured it up his nose, too. Will started to choke all over again. "All right, enough. Drink some, come on. It'll stop you throwin up."

Will did, then groped blindly for the captain's sleeve and rubbed his eyes with it. "It's not funny. I can't see."

"That be the salt." Barbossa tilted his head back and poured more water into his eyes. Will tried to jerk away but was too exhausted to manage much. He wiped his face again. "Better?"

"A little." Will didn't even try to sit up. "I can _hear_ you smiling. Stop it. I can't feel my feet."

"That be the rope." The captain tried for a moment to pick at the knot, but the strain on it had made it impossible so he just used a knife. He pulled off Will's shoes, too, a gesture whose purpose Will didn't immediately guess.

But then the blood flow began returning to his feet, and Will cried for the first time since the ordeal started. Barbossa had to help him into a sitting position so that he could double up and try to rub out the terrible pins and needles.

But the effort was too much and the payoff too little, so Will eventually collapsed again and just endured the pain in a moaning heap on the ground. He was shivering now.

The pirate sighed. "Stand up," he advised after a moment. "It'll hurt at first, but you'll feel better."

"Can't," Will answered tightly. "Leave me alone." Barbossa moved behind him, reached under Will's arms, and in one rough motion hauled him to his feet.

It hurt so much that Will started to fall down again. "Oh no, stay where you are. Give it a minute, you'll feel better." Barbossa draped him forwards over the railing and rubbed his back. "Now don't fall overboard. I think you've had enough of a swim for the day, don't you?" he teased gently, having dropped everything sadistic from his voice. "Are you all right?"

"You're a fiend from Hell."

Barbossa reminded him, laughing, "I told you you wouldn't be thankin me."

Apparently the punishment hadn't done much to tame Will's stubbornness. "And I told you I would," Will said wearily over his shoulder. "So thank you."

Barbossa decided it was time to add insult to injury - make the boy feel stupid as well as half-killed. He asked, "Did you think I meant to drown you?"

Will heaved a sigh. "No," he admitted. "I guess I trust you that far, at least."

"If that's the case, mind tellin me why you didn't go limp sooner?" Will jerked upright in surprise. "This is what you get for being brave instead of thinkin," Barbossa lectured. "You should've took a leaf from your friend Norrington's book and surrendered early. Instead, ye fought it with everything you had, and now you won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow."

"You mean you would have pulled me up as soon as..." Will shook his head. At this point there was little he could do but laugh. "You're unholy."

Barbossa thought it over. "Aye," he agreed after a bit, "I suppose so."

**

* * *

The story of Wench.**

This came about because I was wondering about Barbossa's old girlfriends. Jack, Lizzie, and Barbossa are sitting around chitchatting. Jack says...

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"D'you remember Wench?"

"Leave it be, Jack." Barbossa glared at him. "I liked Wench."

"Wench?" Elizabeth had to ask. Barbossa could see her preparing to press, so he decided to simply tell her the story straight off to save himself half an hour of wheedling. He knew he would end up giving in in the end anyway.

Wench was a girl he met many years ago in Tortuga... "met" in this case being a euphamism for "rented." She was younger and more pixielike than he usually liked his women, but there was something in her manner that puzzled him. Her shyness seemed a little forced. Her graceful, delicate gestures were somehow unnatural. There was something a little too aware and wary in her eyes. Almost as if... as if the whole thing were a disguise or an act of some kind.

A girl of no more than fifteen or sixteen, already keeping dark secrets? Keeping them well enough that he wasn't even sure? Intrigued, he took her upstairs.

The remainder of the evening was not something he described in detail to Elizabeth.

He picked up the story the next morning, when he first got a look at the girl in daylight. He knew at once, from her impressive set of scars (and also from the bruises her powerful grip had left on his thighs, and also from the blood on the sheets, neither of which he mentioned to Elizabeth) that she was definitely not a... erm... _companion _by trade.

It was far more likely, given her age and haircut, that until now the girl had made a living aboard a ship disguised as a cabin boy. Someone had finally found her out, and they'd thrown her off the ship.

That was a shame - she was clever and passably pretty, and he saw no reason why a woman couldn't crew a pirate ship as well as a man. In his experience women were generally the fiercer sex anyway. So he invited her aboard.

After years of frequenting many different women who all took exception to being addressed by the wrong name, Barbossa had developed a policy of calling _every _woman "miss" to be formal and "wench" once they were, err, a little more familiar with one another. He thought nothing of continuing with that strategy now, promptly forgetting whatever name the girl gave him on that first night. He called her Wench to her face, and let the crew follow his example or just invent their own names for her.

Then, by the time the captain realized how much he liked her and was considering inviting her to move her things into the cabin permanently instead of just sneaking in and out every evening, it was much too late to ask what she really wanted to be called.

He enlisted Jack's help, deciding that if anyone could get the girl talking it was a boy her own age who was at least as effeminate as she was. He sent them off on some chore together, and Jack came straight out and said, "You know, I feel awful, but I don't even know your name."

She laughed. "You can just call me Wench like everybody else if you want, I think it's nice after so long being _boy_."

"No, really - I want to know your name."

"Why? Jack Sparrow, you ain't sweet on me, are you? You know what Captain'll say to that."

Jack assured her that he was _not _sweet on her, decided it would be too suspicious to press the matter further, and reported his failure back to Barbossa.

The next attempt (an idea that originated, like all bad ideas, in the malfunctional brain of Jack) was the one that spoiled everything. One night, after they had taken a very fancy ship, the captain was showing off a lovely gold writing set he had kept for himself. He wrote his name with a flourish and offered the pen to her. "You try. Write yours."

Wench laughed. "Who'd have took the time to teach me to write?" She pushed it back to him. "_You _write my name."

Later on it occurred to him that he ought to have just written a very large swear word and she wouldn't have known the difference. At the time, though, he was caught off guard and froze for a split second.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I..."

It hit her. "You don't know," she breathed. "After all this time you don't know my _name_? But I thought you were just teasing, calling me 'Wench' all the time!"

She paused and he knew it was his one chance but he couldn't think of an answer fast enough.

"So that's... that's all I ever am with you? _Wench_?" She stormed out of the cabin.

He couldn't even call after her properly, because he didn't know her name. He followed her up on deck and found her in tears, trying to wheedle the men into lowering a boat for her. "What's this foolishness?" he demanded.

"I- I want to go," Wench sniffed. "I used to be fine, I didn't care a fig for _men_-" the way she spat the word made him wince, "-but now you've made me like you and it's obviously a bad idea and I want to leave."

He was silent and she seemed to take it as a sign that he was going to refuse. "Please - you can have my share of the ship we took today, all I want in return's a boat. Please."

He couldn't very well hold her against her will, could he? He nodded at his mate. "Provision her so she doesn't starve. Give her a boat without a hole in it. And as for you... I bid you a fond farewell, miss." He got her by the shoulders and kissed her quickly on the lips, then turned and left the scene. He was thinking about how unfathomable women are - who would _ask _to be marooned?

It was many women later that it occurred to him that Wench had not actually wanted to be marooned at all. Quite the opposite - her vanity had been wounded and she had merely wanted him to follow her, plead with her to stay, and first and foremost, beg to know her name.

Well, live and learn. And that was the story of Wench.

**

* * *

Barbossa Eats an Apple**

In honor of Golumfryingeggs, who asked about Barbossa getting an apple. I didn't find a place for this, but I think it's cute.

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Barbossa was stretched out on the deck munching on an apple. Jack the monkey was hovering nearby. Apparently his curse had been broken - he went up and tugged on the pirate's coat and held his little hands out until Barbossa bit off a piece and gave it to him.

Jack sat down next to him and started munching. Elizabeth thought it was adorable, until the monkey looked over to her and licked his lips and flashed her a big nasty smile.

_I don't believe it - a MONKEY is trying to make me jealous,_ she thought. And a moment later: _I don't believe it - it's working._

She went over to them and tugged on Barbossa's coat herself, made monkey noises and held out her hands.

He handed over his apple and she took a bite and gave it back. She smirked down at her furry rival, which made Barbossa laugh aloud.

After they had passed the apple back and forth a few more times, Barbossa beckoned Elizabeth closer and whispered, "We're bein watched," into her ear.

She followed the tiny jerk of his head and saw her father who, embarrassed to be caught staring, immediately jumped and conspicuously turned his back.

She turned back around to Barbossa, all ready to make some joke about their cladestine love affair being found out, and discovered that he had drawn his dagger.

For a second she was shocked - he _couldn't _be serious! Over a few disapproving glances?

But she soon realized that a fight was not at all on his agenda. He waited til Governor Swann snuck another peek, then made a big show of cutting the apple in half and giving Elizabeth her own piece. _There, see? _said his body language. _Isn't that better_?

Realizing he was being humored and made fun of, Governor Swann stalked off to find someone who would treat him with a little more dignity.

Barbossa laughed and licked his dagger and put it away. Elizabeth laughed too, until she noticed that Jack the monkey had migrated to her lap, and was actually eating directly out of her hands when she wasn't paying attention. "Hey! That's mine!" She jerked it up and held it over her head.

Jack bounced around furiously and tried to hiss at her. Being that he was now just an ordinary monkey, Elizabeth was not in the least intimidated. She found that teasing Jack with her snack was even better than eating it.

Barbossa was feeling mellow enough not to comment on this fact, or to wonder aloud how the blazes she thought she was going to get along as a straightlaced Port Royal citizen for the rest of her life.

**

* * *

The Noisiest Hostage**

I wrote this because I love writing Davy/Barbossa interaction, but then it turns out the story didn't really need it.

On the _Dutchman _setting up for the party, Barbossa notices that only a select few of Davy's fishpeople are hanging about.

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"Where's the rest of your crew?"

"They failed me... so I ate them," Davy explained complacently. Barbossa's eyes widened. "You fool. Imagine what they would taste like! I sent them off to run an errand underwater. Didn't need your girl to take me to task for _failing to respect the men's feelings _again... whatever that means."

Barbossa snorted. "On the one hand she's right - there's no need to rub their nose in joy they're never going to know... on the other hand, what nerve to say anything about it! She's got to be the noisiest hostage I've ever taken."

"You have no idea. She-"

"I really think I do. I tried to quiet her down by scarin her, and first thing she did was stab me. Right here. Still got the mark."

Davy gave only a small smile, but by now Barbossa recognized the lively wriggling of his mustache as a sign that he was extremely amused. "That girl gave me a sermon about the way I run my ship."

Now that was a touchy subject for any captain. Barbossa winced in sympathy. "Aye, I'll admit she's never dared broach the subject with me. Of course, that's probably because I'm so good to her she just doesn't notice how I trample over everybody else."

Barbossa hadn't heard the way his tone was changing, but Davy had. "I sincerely hope you're ready for her to trample over you, friend," he said with a dark and unfriendly smile. "Because take my word she's about to."

Barbossa didn't misinterpret his glee. "Well, at least I'll know where to come for sympathy if I find I need a shoulder to cry on," he sneered. He just barely caught his tongue before it ran away with him and added, _Although I doubt it'll be necessary; some people can take a little lady trouble in stride, "friend."_

He looked down and prayed that Davy hadn't guessed what he was thinking. He needn't have worried - Davy assumed that naturally Barbossa was in a foul mood from his impending heartbreak and that of course he was prone to lashing out as a result. For a brief moment Davy actually felt bad about torturing him over such a sacred subject.

At the same time, Barbossa thought of the favor Davy had done de-sliming his shoulder wound for him, and for a brief moment felt bad for even _thinking _such cruel thoughts about Davy and his lost love.

Neither of them apologized, of course. They just clinked glasses and moved the conversation into more neutral waters.

* * *

And that's all, folks! Leave me some love!


	41. Thanks!

Ok – the sequel is up! It's called _Another One! A Better One! _and I am having super fun writing it. Let me know what you think so far – readers' ideas have a way of working themselves into the story.

Thanks so much for reading – you guys are great!!


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